


Glam_100 drabbles - 2013

by Leela



Series: glam_100_drabbles [6]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Community: glam_100, D/s, Double Penetration, Drabble Collection, GNT-era, Gen, M/M, Masturbation, Original Character Death(s), Shaving, Vampires, Voyeurism, Werewolves, Wingfic, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:49:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 25,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is a different drabble written in 2013 for the prompts in the <a href="http://glam-100.livejournal.com/">Glam 100 community on Livejournal</a>. See the series for drabbles written for earlier prompts.</p><p>Tags and pairings apply to different drabbles/drabble-sets in the series. </p><p>All titles on chapters list the pairing in that drabble/drabble-set.</p><p>CURRENT DRABBLE:<br/>Prompt #110: That Look - <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/636709/chapters/2181527">Black and Red</a><br/><b>Pairing:</b> Adam/Tommy<br/><b>Rating:</b> PG-13<br/><b>Content:</b> Cross-dressing<br/><b>Summary:</b> Each lick of the razor, each growled syllable strips him bare, leaves him wanting, moves him one step nearer to becoming.<br/>NOTE: See the chapter notes and titles for Content, Warnings, and Pairings on the previous weeks' drabble(s).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sense Memory

Tommy remembers what it was like to see, to bounce across a stage without worrying about tripping or falling. He remembers the delight on the faces of the audience when Adam's voice spirals up just one note higher.

He misses the laughter in his niece's eyes, and the ever-present grief in his mother's.

But most of all, on nights like this, he misses seeing Adam give up control in that moment when Adam's buried so deep inside him that they're almost one person. 

He'd trade almost anything to see that again.

Anything but Adam and the music they make together.


	2. Dirty Blues I (Tommy, Adam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy closed his eyes, rocked slightly, and just let his fingers fly over the strings. He had no words, not for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** Angsty, off-screen original character death
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #073: rhythm 'n booze Many thanks to aislinntlc and minxie for the preread.

Ragged, filthy black-grey clouds scudded across the sky, driven by the same wind that was sending trash and dead leaves flying over the grass. The air smelled like rain and cold, and the beginnings of things growing.

Tommy shivered as he pulled his guitar out of the gig bag and sat down. Cold and damp seeped through his jeans from the grass, and he almost changed his mind. Instead, he reached over to plug in his guitar and flip on his portable amp. 

The battery light flashed green, and a test chord joined the noise kicked up by the wind.

^V^

"I've got no idea why I'm doing this after all these years. Not a fucking clue. But I need to, you know?" He scrubbed the palm of his hand over his cheeks. "Hell, you probably know better than I do. You always understood. Even at the end, when everything was so fucked up."

"Damn it. You weren't supposed to fucking do this. You were supposed to stay."

The bubble of pain that had lived inside Tommy's chest for years expanded and burst. He snarled and dragged his pick over the strings. A long, drawn-out wail shrieked out of the amp.

^V^

Tommy closed his eyes, rocked slightly, and just let his fingers fly over the strings. He had no words, not for this. Not for what had felt so much like betrayal over the long years of being left alone. So he let his music, his heart, his soul, speak for him.

A gust of wind ruffled his hair. A single drop of rain landed just below his right eye.

Startled, Tommy blinked. He didn't know how much time had passed, how long he'd been playing. 

The wind brought a familiar giggle over to him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

^V^

His kids were over by the car, running around Adam, chasing each other, pretending to fly.

Unable to stop a half-assed smile from curving his lips, Tommy turned back to the headstone in front of him. 

"You fucked up," he told it, told her. "You should've stuck around, got to see them grow up. Nothing could be—"

He choked. Then, forcing himself to breathe, he reached over and dug his old silver flask with Jimi etched on the front, out of the pocket of his gig bag. His hand shook as he opened it, and the Jack sloshed around inside.

^V^

"Hope you're happier," Tommy said. "Jesus, that sounds so fucked up. I don't even believe in that stuff."

Shifting his guitar to one side, he leaned forward and poured the flask out over the grave.

"Fell into this after you did it. Took Mom, Lisa, Adam and a shit-ton of friends to drag my ass out of it. Our kids too. They just wouldn't stop. Determined little shits, just like you."

He sniffed and shoved the flask top-down into the soft, damp ground. The base clunked against the stone, and the wind hit him in the back of the head.

^V^

"Gonna leave that with you, okay? I held on to it, because you gave it to me. Because it was yours and mine and there isn't fucking enough ours left." Another drop of rain fell, this time onto his nose.

He glanced back over his shoulder. His kids were rolling around on the grass, starting to act up. Adam was leaning against the car, shaking his head.

"I gotta go before they start taking this place apart." He got to his feet, hiking his pants up one-handed, and distracted himself with packing away his guitar and shutting the amp down.

^V^

The gig bag slung over one shoulder, and the amp in one hand, Tommy turned back to the headstone. "I love you," he said, "always, but I can't live here any longer."

The wind picked up again, brought a squeal of laughter to him, and he began walking to the car. He was halfway there when two seven-year-olds came running.

"Daddy." Emma tugged at Tommy's free hand. "Uncle Adam says we were good enough for ice cream."

"We were very, very good," Joey added. "You can ask Uncle Adam."

"Then you can play for us," Emma said.

And Tommy smiled.


	3. Dirty Blues II (B-Side) (Brian/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know I'm a crawlin' king snake, baby, and I rules my den."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #073: rhythm 'n booze Many thanks to aislinntlc and minxie for the preread.
> 
> The lyrics are from John Lee Hooker's version of _Crawlin' Man Blues_.

The music greets Brian as he steps off the elevator. The bass line thumps in his chest. The guitar riffs tug at his heart. The rise and fall of the keys get his fingers tapping his thigh.

"Welcome home," he mutters as he slots his key into the door. 

There's a bottle and a pair of glasses on the table. The living room's lit by streetlight, the flames in the fireplace, and the multi-colored LEDs that decorate the speakers of his stereo and blink in time to the beat.

John Lee Hooker's voice interrupts Brian before he can say anything.

*

"You know I'm a crawlin' king snake, baby—"

Brian smiles as he sees a shift in the shadows by the windows. Shrugging his overnight bag off his shoulder, he lets it and his jacket drop to the floor. The thud they make is lost beneath the beat. 

Watching, waiting, he toes off his shoes and socks.

A flash of red neon from across the street catches in blond hair, and Brian smiles. "Hey, baby," he whispers, not loud enough to be heard over the music. "Did you miss me?"

The only response is Hooker singing, "And I rules my den—"

*

Hips moving to the music, Brian saunters over to the window. He sings along with Hooker, his voice almost a growl.

"You know I'm a crawlin' king snake, baby—"

When he gets close, Tommy moves out into the faint light. Tommy's fingers are working the air, playing an invisible guitar.

"And I rules my den—"

Brian breathes the words onto Tommy's skin, licks them from his mouth, bites them into his lips, and Tommy bites, licks, sucks them back. He's warm in Brian's arms, tasting of red wine and home, solidly real and grounding after the crazy, turbulence-filled cross-country flight.

*

"I don't want you hangin' around my mate—"

Brian splays his fingers wide and slides his hands down Tommy's back. He presses a leg between Tommy's, pulls Tommy close to him, and grinds against him slowly, matching the backbeat. Heat sizzles up Brian's spine.

His incoherent curse lost in the dirty slide of a guitar riff, Tommy grips Brian's hips and drags him even closer. There's barely a molecule of air between them, just the way Brian wants it.

"Wanna use her for myself."

Mouth against the shell of Tommy's ear, Brian repeats the line, "Wanna use _him_ for myself."

*

Hooker keeps on singing. Brian growls the harmony, low and filthy. He dances to the music, rocking, sliding, rolling his hips. Tommy's riding Brian's thigh. Brian's dick is rubbing against Tommy.

Then Tommy's lips part on a breath, and his head goes back, exposing the arch of his neck. Suddenly it's nowhere near enough for Brian. It's been weeks since he was home, and he needs to get his mark back on his boy. 

With a nip at Tommy's earlobe, Brian backs up a step. Tommy's eyes go wide, and Brian shakes his head, bites a kiss onto his lips.

*

"You know I'm gon' crawl up to your window, baby—"

Brian spins Tommy around, smiling when Tommy just goes with it, and he pushes Tommy up against the window. 

It's dark inside, bright outside. No one can see as Tommy presses his hands against the glass to brace himself. No one can see as Brian slides a hand over Tommy's belly and pushes the loose, worn sweatpants off Tommy's narrow hips and down. 

No one can see the rush of want- _fuck_ -need that overwhelms Brian when he realizes that Tommy's not wearing underwear, that his dick is right the fuck there.

*

"Wanna crawl up to your door—"

Tommy's dick is hot and hard in Brian's hand. He squeezes, once, tugs lightly, and Tommy groans, pushes up into Brian's grip.

Opening his jeans one-handed, shoving them and his briefs down, Brian slides into place behind Tommy. He lines his dick up with the cleft of Tommy's ass, and he rubs up against him.

"Fuck." It's barely a word in Tommy's mouth, little more than a gasp of air.

In answer, Brian sucks a mark just below Tommy's ear and breathes the next line against his skin. 

"You got anything I want, baby—"

*

Tommy's answer is a rough, dry thrust into the circle of Brian's hand and a rock back against Brian.

Sliding his hand up Tommy's dick, Brian lets precome slick his hand for the ride down. He repeats it, over and over, jacking Tommy to the music, to the slowest of slow rhythms.

For himself, though, Brian wants the dryness, wants to feel the skin of Tommy's ass dragging and pulling against his dick with each roll of his hips. 

Neon flashes red, not quite matching the beat, as heat gathers in Brian's balls, as Tommy's dick hardens in his grip.

*

"I'm just gonna keep on crawlin' now, baby—"

"Yeah," tumbles out of Tommy's mouth. "God... just... fuck."

Brian speeds up, catches the mid-beat, and Tommy sags forward, rests his forehead against the glass. 

That moves him too far away, so Brian crowds in, presses closer. He curves his free hand around Tommy's throat, angling his head, exposing his neck.

And as he comes, as his hands tighten, around Tommy's dick and throat, as Tommy curses out his orgasm, Brian digs his teeth into the curve of Tommy's neck.

"Because I'm a crawlin' king snake, baby, and I rules my den."


	4. Home (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets home from a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #074: comfort. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Closing the front door behind him with as little noise as possible, Tommy rests his suitcase against the wall, props his guitar next to it, and breathes. The condo smells of eggs and chocolate, of faded cologne and the nag champa candles that are Adam's current favorite. 

The stereo cycles from Imagine Dragons to Goldfrapp, and Adam starts singing along.

Tommy toes off his shoes and pads down the hall to the kitchen. Adam's standing in front of the stove, wielding a spatula like a mic.

Smiling, Tommy leans against the doorframe and watches him. It's good to be home.


	5. His Life (Adam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for glam_100, prompt #075: airport. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

Adam steps out of the car and walks into LAX, the first of many airports on his itinerary. Overwhelmed by that thought, he pauses just inside the doors, drawing a muttered "Watch out, asshole" from a woman who catches his boot with her suitcase and almost knocks him over.

The others are already near the check-in counter, waiting. His tour manager looks up and beckons to him. As if Adam hadn't seen them yet.

As if.

His body and soul singing with joy, Adam takes a deep breath and moves towards them.

It's fucking real. This is his motherfucking life.


	6. Surefire Winners (Adam/Sauli/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy gets home first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #076: spring. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

_Yo! I've got 70+ weather and you're still freezing your balls off!_

When Tommy doesn't get a response, he tries again.

_Fucking flowers!! And grass!!! Green shit everywhere!!! Haha!_

It takes almost five minutes for his phone to buzz with an answering text.

_Lips, hands and ass. And a big bed to curl up in! We win everything!! ;)_

Tommy bites his lip to try and hold back his smile. 

_I'm eating and drinking in our bed! Getting makeup and stuff on your pillows, bitches._

The reply comes back almost immediately. 

_We miss you too. Now get some damn sleep._


	7. Dinner With Ma Guy (Tommy/Nick Annis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy invites an old friend out for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #077: reunion. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread. Also written for [this picture](http://instagram.com/p/XghugWxhsD/), which Nick Annis (who used to be in Turn of the Screw with Tommy) posted to his Instagram.

"So dinner, huh?" Nick looked at Tommy over the rim of his glass. "In a fancy restaurant. Not what I expected when you said 'let's get together'." 

Tommy shrugged, no longer sure that this was such an awesome idea. "Been a while. We've both been traveling. Figured we should catch up." 

"You dressed up for me. You haven't done that since Screw, since we fucked around. Since I asked you if..."

Gathering his courage, Tommy reached out, laid his hand over Nick's. And waited.

Nick turned his hand over slowly, curling his fingers around Tommy's. "Not just fucking around?"

"No."


	8. Feathering His Nest (Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who the fuck knew wings could hurt so much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #078: to be continued... @aislinntlc and Minxie for the preread and encouragement. Oh, and to @zoodlemouse13 for putting this image into my head.

Everything's totally fine until Tommy goes to roll over on his back like usual, getting ready for a good belly scratch. Except his fucking wings get caught. 

Ow, fucking _OW!_

Who the fuck knew wings could hurt so much?

Who the fuck knew he had wings?

_Wings?_

Suddenly wide-awake as fuck, Tommy shoves himself into an upright position. And ends up with a faceful of white feathers. He pulls them out of his face and goes to throw them away, only to find they're attached. 

To him.

"Motherfucking... Jesus, what the fuck did I do last night?" 

... _To be continued_...


	9. Of Beaches and Band-Aids (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, me, and the fire. Nobody else around, getting up in our shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #079: fire. Many thanks to Aislinn for the preread and to Minxie for her honesty about my earlier, failed attempt at a drabble-set.

Tommy poked a stick into the fire, sending sparks flying towards the stars. "Do you miss it?"

"Hmmm?" Adam was lying on his back next to Tommy, stretched out on a blanket, eyes closed, arms beneath his head. 

"Being able to do whatever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want, without like worrying about total strangers getting all up in your shit."

"Complete strangers've been getting up in my shit from the minute I came out." Adam's laugh was half-amusement and half-sarcasm. "They didn't used to carry cameras though."

"I worry about it. Like all the fucking time."

▼

Adam rolled over onto his side and propped his head on one hand. "No strangers here right now," he said. "Just you and me and the fire."

Focusing on a dead-spot in the fire, Tommy used his stick to push some of the wood over and fill it with flames. "This could break me," he admitted.

Something inside Tommy's chest tore open so wide that he couldn't stay still. He tossed the stick into the fire and shoved himself up to his feet. A few unsteady steps took him to firmer, damp sand, and a few more to the water.

▼

The ocean was cold, kissing and tickling Tommy's bare feet, making him shiver in the breeze. He wriggled his toes and wrapped his arms around his torso, but he didn't move away. Not even when Adam came and stood behind him, close enough for Tommy to feel his warmth.

"You didn't have to," Adam said.

"Fuck you." Tommy jerked his head backwards and knocked Adam in the chin. "If that's what you think of me."

"Ow, shit, that hurt."

"Yeah, well—" 

"Asshole." 

"Takes one to know one."

"Seriously? What are you? Five?"

Half-turning, Tommy stuck his tongue out at Adam.

▼

Adam snorted with laughter and pulled Tommy into a hug. They stood there, Tommy's back against Adam's chest, Adam's chin against Tommy's hair, until worry started swamping Tommy's mind again.

The last remnants of a wave splashing around his ankles, Tommy turned to face Adam and pressed his forehead into Adam's shoulder. Adam tightened his hug, and Tommy curled his hands around Adam's arms.

"Twitter's gonna be a fucking firestorm."

"So don't look."

"Like that's ever worked for either of us.

"There's a first time for everything."

"Yeah? How long'll you resist?"

Adam's silence was all the answer Tommy needed.

▼

"We should put out the fire, head back to the car."

"Don't wanna," Tommy mumbled into Adam's chest. "Wanna keep you to myself a little bit longer."

He could feel Adam's smile in the kiss Adam pressed to the shaved side of his head. "Sex on the beach sucks, baby. Trust me on that. Sand gets places you can't even imagine."

"Just for a little while longer. You, me, and the fire. Nobody else around, getting up in our shit." Pulling back a little, Tommy glanced up at Adam through his eyelashes, knowing that Adam couldn't fucking resist that look.

▼

They both lay down on the blanket this time. Adam was half on his back and half on his side, curled around Tommy. It was warm and comfortable and as safe as Tommy had ever felt in his life.

He couldn't help poking at his fears though, like teasing at a paper cut. "They'll all have read the article by now, right? They'll be putting labels on me, like bi or gay." 

"Yeah." Adam's hand was soft as it stroked up and down Tommy's back. "Labels don't hurt, I promise."

"Only when you rip them off, like a fucking band-aid."


	10. Dance With Me (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a dance party going on up there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #080: dance party. Many thanks to Valress for the preread, and to my twitter feed to indulging me and sharing their ideas.

The first flash of bright red, a few seconds after he sits down, catches Adam by surprise. It's followed by purple and then more red, and then the _thud-thud-thud_ of bass reverberating through the room.

"And here we go. Check it out, bitches." Johnny slides down in his armchair, resting his head on the low back, and looks up at the ceiling. "There's a dance party going on up there."

Vertigo swoops through Adam, knocking him almost off-balance, even though he's sitting down, until his brain makes sense of what he's seeing. The upstairs dance floor is made of glass.

≈

The ceiling's a checkerboard of glass and black. The see-through square above their heads is big enough to see five, and occasionally six or seven guys dancing.

It's fascinating, somewhere between dizzying and erotic. Heeled boots and shoes, leather and shiny fabrics shimmer in the lights and reflect the colors down through the glass. Long legs slide between each other, curl around each other. Decidedly male bodies grind and writhe, thrust and play.

Just as Adam's started getting turned on by watching strangers, who seem even stranger from this angle, play at sex, Ashley blurts out, "Holy shit, that's T-Bone."

≈

Adam's gaze snaps onto a familiar pair of low-heeled boots, onto black jeans that hang precariously on slim hips and a barely-there ass. Tommy's at the edge of the glass, directly over Adam's head, and all Adam can see of his partner is a muscular leg clad in skintight silvery pants.

The music slows, the bass deepens and seems to throb in Adam's chest, and Tommy's partner moves in. Dark hands curve around Tommy's hips, draw him closer until there's no space between them.

Tommy's not-quite awkward moves turn into a slow grind that Adam can feel in his dick.

≈

Before he can think through what he's doing, Adam's up and on his feet.

"Going somewhere?" Ashley emphasizes her soft-voiced question by stretching her leg out in front of Adam, blocking his way to the circular staircase. 

Adam glances upward, in time to see a dark hand slide up Tommy's back to settle at the nape of his neck. It's a gentle move, affectionate rather than possessive, and yet Adam's fingers clench so tightly that his nails dig into his palm.

Holding up his empty glass, Adam says, "Time for a refill."

"Bar's over there." Johnny waves languidly. "Try again."

≈

Instead of answering, Adam tosses his glass at Johnny and jumps over Ashley's leg. He pauses halfway up the stairs to look at the glass square again.

Tommy's arched back, letting his partner hold his weight. Trusting this stranger, this person Adam doesn't know, not to drop him. As Adam watches, Tommy is pulled up, wrapped in dark arms, and spun around. 

If he were close enough, he'd be able to hear Tommy laughing. 

That thought drives Adam up the stairs. He slips between two women who are chatting near the top and makes his way to the dance floor.

≈

The music is louder up here, the bass more insistent, the dancers impossible to resist. Adam's drawn into a group of four, rolling his hips and letting them touch him, rub against him, even as he tries to find Tommy, tries to work out which square among so very many is the one he was sitting below.

Arms up over his head, Adam rises up on his toes and spins around. Pink-streaked blond hair arcs through the air far to his left in a head-banging move that sends arousal racing down Adam's spine, like a sliding riff of guitar chords.

≈

"Stay," a man whisper-shouts, skimming his hand down Adam's chest.

It's tempting enough, familiar enough, safe enough to make Adam hesitate. He knows this. He knows the push and the pull, the steps of this dance that's guaranteed not to end in a broken heart. 

"Not tonight," Adam says. Not ever is what he wants to say, but they're not only his words to speak. They depend on Tommy not walking away this time. 

The song ends. There's a moment of silence, broken by voices, by the shuffling of feet, by a turn that leaves Adam looking into Tommy's eyes.

≈

A single drumbeat echoes through the room, then another and another, before guitar, synth, and voice join in. The floor vibrates beneath their feet, encouraging them to join the other dancers.

But Adam's pinned in place by the dark seriousness in Tommy's eyes, by the way that Tommy doesn't move toward him. Not even when the dark hand slips off Tommy's shoulder, and the stranger steps away into the arms of someone else.

_It's my move,_ Adam thinks.

His heart feeling as if it's beating to the driving pulse of the music, Adam holds out his hand. "Dance with me?"

≈

Tommy shifts, tosses his hair out of his eyes, and combs it down with his fingers. "I'm not very good," he says. "I'll probably step on your toes."

"I can teach you." 

"You're not exactly the most patient guy around."

"You could teach me."

"Yeah, maybe. Way fucking stranger things have happened in my life." 

Tommy's half-assed grin reels Adam in, brings him closer. They're not really dancing, although the music's moving them both. 

Slowly, carefully, giving Tommy lots of time to back away, to change his mind, Adam bends down until he can feel Tommy's breath against his lips.

≈

Then someone bumps into Adam from behind, and another guy almost knocks Tommy over. They end up holding on to each other and laughing.

And kissing.

And grinding against each other, lighting sparks of want and need. 

He slides a hand under Tommy's shirt, tucks his little finger under the waistband of Tommy's pants and underwear. Tommy curls his hands over Adam's shoulders and rubs against Adam's thigh.

Adam swallows Tommy's words, his breaths. 

Everything is music and sparks of want and need, and all Adam can do, all he wants to do is close his eyes and hold on.


	11. The Art of Being Alone (Adam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #081: obsession. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Adam's alone. For the first time in years, there's no one else within shouting distance.

He thinks, for a moment, or maybe even six, of calling his mom, Neil, Sutan, Tommy, anyone who might come over no matter what else they're doing just because he needs company.

"You need this," he tells his reflection on the other side of the window. "You need to learn how to be alone again."

He's not very persuasive though. Even his reflection doesn't believe him.

Sighing, he flicks on his phone and falls into the familiar insanity of his @replies. 

He's no longer alone.


	12. The Lyre (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lyre keeps Tommy's heart, because it brought him music. It also exposes his secret when he least expects it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Vampire AU
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #082: always. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread and @MyPrivateAffair for the encouragement (even if she laughs at me way too much).

Tommy's been a vampire for twelve years when he steals his first instrument from a woman who accuses him, without basis, of theft.

Turning her lie into truth seems like an appropriate response. So Tommy breaks into her home that same night. He finds her passed out on the bed between her husband and the Roman ambassador. 

His plan to steal her jewelry vanishes when he spots the lyre on its pedestal. The lyre has seven strings, its plectrum tethered by a gold ribbon, and he craves it. Ghosting past the humans, he disappears into the night with his future.

^V^

His second's a tanbur but, unlike the lyre, he abandons it when he moves on to his next life. Then comes a harp, a lute, a citole, every stringed instrument he can play without a bow, that lets him touch the strings, feel their vibrations through his fingers and his body in just the right way.

He doesn't keep another instrument until the gittern another bard hands him, along with a challenge to play it, in thirteenth century London. 

The lyre keeps his heart though, because it brought him music. It also exposes his secret when he least expects it.

^V^

It happens when Tommy's calendar's wide-open. Adam's got nothing planned for weeks, and his friends back off with a wave of his hand and a mutter of, "Tommy time."

His studio is kept cool by air-conditioning, and private by layers of security that eat away at his not-enormous savings.

The lyre, though, is warm under his hands, worn enough in all the right places that Tommy's sure no one else can ever play it.

His first strum across the strings is sweet and joyous. Soon, he's so lost in the music that he doesn't hear the door open.

Or close.

^V^

He doesn't realize he's not alone until he blocks the strings to silence them, and hears an indrawn breath, an all-too-human heartbeat. His fangs drop before he thinks about controlling himself.

Adam's whispered, "Oh my god," is as clear as bells to Tommy.

Pressing his lips together, fangs digging into his mouth, Tommy manages to hiss instead of snarl. He doesn't like surprises.

"That's... that's... real."

"Yep."

"Seriously? Oh wow, I mean. Seriously, seriously old and real?"

Despite the insanity of this, Tommy's amused that Adam fixates on the lyre not the fangs. "Totally, dude. Seriously fucking old and real."

^V^

Adam moves closer, carefully and slowly, and reaches out toward Tommy, toward his lyre. There's awe in his voice when he asks, "Can I touch it?"

"Umm." 

Tommy's fingers clench on the strings, sending an odd note ringing through the room, not because he doesn't trust Adam with his baby, but because he does and that's more than a little freaky. 

"It's okay if— I mean, I'd totally understand if you—"

"Go ahead," Tommy says, more to stop Adam from babbling than anything else. "You can touch her."

Sinking to his knees, Adam runs his hand over the ancient inlay.

^V^

"It's not all original," Tommy finally says into the silence as Adam caresses the soundboard. "Had to replace some parts over the years, and modern strings are bitching compared to the old ones."

"How?"

Not sure what Adam's asking, Tommy shrugs. "Took it from the wicked witch of Mesopotamia. She annoyed the fuck out of me one night."

Adam giggles, high-pitched enough that he pulls a hand away from the lyre to clap it over his mouth.

"It's pretty plain as lyres went back in those days, but that's why I wanted it." Tommy strums the lyre. "Sweet sound too."

^V^

As Adam settles cross-legged on the floor, one finger still touching the soundboard, as if to feel the vibrations, the heel of his hand resting against Tommy's leg, Tommy begins to play.

It's an ancient song, one no longer heard in the world. A winding, plaintive ode to a lover long lost that Tommy wrote centuries ago for a man with dark hair, golden eyes, and a voice that twined itself around Tommy's heart. A man so much like Adam that it hurts sometimes.

A man so much like Adam that it feels right to play the song for him.

^V^

Tommy's so lost in the music that he almost misses the moment when Adam starts singing along. Wordless, Adam's voice rises and falls, weaving in and out of the notes, in and out of Tommy's soul, as if he was born knowing it.

When that song ends, craving more and more of that feeling, Tommy moves into another song and then another; Adam follows along without hesitation. They finish together, the music sliding up and up and up, until Adam ends the note and Tommy blocks his strings.

Adam's flushed, his eyes are bright, and Tommy wants to kiss him.

^V^

The urge draws a breathed "oh" out of Tommy. Unable to looks away from Adam's mouth, the tiny freckles he once tasted every night, he wets his lips with his tongue.

"Tell me no," Adam says, rising to his knees. "Or even better, tell me yes."

His palm is soft against Tommy's jaw. So warm that Tommy turns into it, presses a kiss against the skin, feels the music that thrums through Adam's soul. He could live on that, he knows. 

"Tell me."

Tommy raises his eyes, looks into Adam's. He wants this so badly, but not without Adam understanding.

^V^

"You need to know—" is all he can get out before Adam says, "I do."

"No... fuck... really. Would you just shut the fuck up and listen? You've gotta know." Tommy pulls away from Adam's hand, fighting the yearning to stay close to that delicious heat. "I'm not human."

"Duh." 

"Oh fuck you, bitch. I'm having an existential fucking crisis here."

Adam starts laughing, and Tommy just wants to hit him because this shit is totally serious. Except he's still holding onto the lyre, and Adam's laughter feels warm against his hand, and— 

He's so damn fucked it isn't funny.

^V^

It's too damn much, that's all Tommy knows. He shakes off Adam's hold and races across the room, putting as much distance between them as possible in the small studio.

"Oh my fucking god." Adam sounds reverent. "You... you really are, aren't you? I mean I was sure, but it's not like I've ever met a vampire before."

Tommy snorts with laughter and focuses on settling the straps over the lyre. "That you know of."

"Okay, yeah, I'll give you that, but this is so awesome."

When the lyre's stored in its protective case, Tommy turns and watches Adam approach.

^V^

Adam's not hesitant. His heartbeat is slightly faster, but he smells more of arousal than fear. In fact, he's all but fucking prowling, as if Tommy were the prey not the predator.

When Adam's close enough, Tommy puts out a hand, lays it flat against Adam's chest to stop him, and asks, "How did you find me?"

"Right neighborhood, right time?"

"What?"

Laying his hand over Tommy's, Adam puts on his most disarming smile, the one that should but never does scare the paps. "Scarlett's got a thing going a couple of studios down and asked me to watch Riff."

^V^

"Shit." Tommy shakes his head. "This town really isn't that fucking small."

"Yes," Adam says, taking a step forward, "it is." 

Tommy could stop him. He's strong enough, but he's just not that stupid. He wants Adam. Wants his heat and his music. Wants everything of him he can have for as long as he can have it. So he lets his arm bend, lets Adam get close enough to crowd him against the cabinet that holds his instruments.

"How long?" Tommy asks, although he's not sure what he's really asking.

"Always," Adam says. "Forever."

And then he kisses Tommy.


	13. The Early Bird (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's early. Tommy's not quite ready for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Voyeurism  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #083: masturbation. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

"You're early." Mike stands in the partly open front door and looks at Adam as if he's grown a new head.

After a beat or two, when it's clear that Mike's going to keep on staring at him instead of letting him in, Adam says, "Interview was cancelled. If it's a problem, I could..." He trails off, gestures toward his car.

Mike's expression twists, becomes shadowed with thought before he smiles. "Oh, hell no," he says, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

Once Adam's got his shoes off, Mike waves him on. 

"Tommy's in his room. Go on back."

▼

Purple Haze fills the hallway outside Tommy's room with Hendrix's guitar and voice. Adam hesitates, licking his lips. For the first time in ages, he can taste the sweetness of smoke, the harshness of whiskey, the bliss of Amsterdam.

As if he's under a spell cast years earlier, Adam turns the knob and slips into the room. 

Tommy's on the bed, eyes closed, feet planted wide, knees bent, exposing his balls, his ass, his hole. He's got one hand wrapped around his dick. His other hand is above his head, fingers flexing, like he's trying to hold onto the wall.

▼

Heat races through Adam with every breath of the incense-laden air and gathers, heavy and needy, in his dick and balls. He should back out, go away, let Tommy know he's there.

But he can't. Fuck his life, he just can't. Not seeing Tommy like this. 

Adam reaches down, intending to adjust himself, but ends up popping the buttons and sliding his hand into his briefs.

Touching his dick, feeling need prickle through his belly and up his spine, Adam leans against the door, legs shoulder-width apart. His thumb brushes over the head of his dick, and the prickling intensifies.

▼

"Ah," Tommy breathes, almost silently, and his head goes back, baring the length of his neck.

Running his tongue over the palm of his own hand, Adam imagines it's Tommy's skin, his warm lickable skin. 

Adam tugs on his dick, using slow and easy strokes, trying to slow down the tightening in his belly, the orgasm threatening to hit him fast and hard.

"Yes. Fuck. Oh, fuck." Tommy's hips rise, and he fucks up into his hand. The muscles of his ass quiver, clench down on nothing.

With a shuddery breath, Adam's grip tightens and his hand skids over precome.

▼

The music stops and starts again. Hendrix growls. His guitar vibrates through the room.

"Just... fucking... like... that." Tommy's hand starts moving faster, and Adam automatically matches his rhythm, his speed. 

Up and down, and up again, with a twist at the top. Precome isn't enough; the slight drag of Adam's nearly dry hand adds to the feeling, to the want and need flashing through him like lightning.

Until Adam's dick is thick and hard, his balls drawing up tight and aching. Until Tommy comes with a muffled "Fuck me," and his eyes flick open.

Adam freezes, watching, barely breathing.

▼

"Don't stop," Tommy says, his voice roughened by the harshness of his breathing.

"I should—" is all Adam can manage. He feels like an asshole, standing there with his hand on his dick. 

Tommy stretches, lifts himself up on one elbow. Looking directly into Adam's eyes, he brings his other hand to his mouth, curls his tongue around one finger, and licks his own come.

It feels like Tommy's licking Adam's dick, wrapping his tongue around it. Hot and wet, and stealing Adam's breath, sending him flying up and up, until he's lost in his own release, in Tommy's eyes.


	14. Imperative (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing works. Nothing ever works on nights like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Werewolves
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #084: howl. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy leans against the wall next to the window and listens. His head is bent, and his bangs cover his face, making sure that he can't see outside. He rubs a hand over his sternum, pressing down occasionally, trying to make the ache stop.

Nothing works. Nothing ever works on nights like this. 

Nights when he can hear Adam howl for him. Nights when he's locked inside this room, kept from Adam, from his mate. 

Nights when their families, their friends, try to protect them from their instincts, from their needs, because they can't, they shouldn't, they mustn't do this.

∞

Not yet anyway. Not before Tommy's shifted on his own. Not before he's challenged and won.

Adam's howl grows closer. The ache in Tommy's heart turns into needle-sharp spikes that race outward, feel like they're slicing through his skin from the inside. 

Gripping onto the wall, Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lower lip. He can't, he won't, scream out for Adam. 

The pain becomes flame-tipped, edged with fiery heat, and Tommy falls to his knees. He wraps his arms around himself and bends over, almost touching his forehead to the floor. 

And still Adam calls for him.

∞

Air scrapes its way in and out of Tommy's lungs. His chest heaves as he fights for each rasping breath. His fingers and toes curl, digging pointed claws into his flesh. The scent of blood tickles his nose, makes him sneeze, and the agony prickles his eyes with almost-tears.

"Fuck," he growls, elongating the vowel until it seems to merge with Adam's cries.

It's way beyond too much, and it's gone so far that he's not going to be able to stop it this time. 

His body convulsing, bones snapping, tendons stretching, changing, Tommy throws back his head and howls.

∞

Adam's voice wraps around Tommy's, pulls him to his feet. Shaking with pain, barely able to stand, Tommy falls to the floor. He takes a deep breath, grits his teeth, and pushes himself up again.

Tommy manages one staggering step and then another. He's backing away from the window. It's a small distance further away from Adam, who keeps moving closer, who's almost near enough to smell, to touch, and not just to hear.

His head down, refusing to look, to think about what he's about to do, about the dizzying height, Tommy starts to run. 

And then he jumps.

∞

Glass and wood shatter around him, spraying shards outward, catching in his fur. He lands on four paws, just managing to stay upright.

He can hear voices behind him, people yelling, someone screams, but the words make no sense. They're just sounds, loud noises that hurt his sensitive ears, make him want to get away from them. He shakes his head, hears a quiet whuff.

_Mine!_

The thought, the feeling swamps Tommy, from inside and outside, from himself and from Adam. He uses it to push himself forward, until he's standing in front of the big black and red wolf.

∞

Not moving, not making a sound, Adam watches Tommy. He's clearly just going to wait and see what Tommy does next.

Fucker, Tommy thinks, I've fucking done enough. He whines and lets himself fall to the ground at Adam's feet in an uncoordinated sprawl.

When Adam barks, Tommy twists his head so he can look up. Adam comes to stand over him, nuzzling into the curve of Tommy's jaw, licking at the underside of Tommy's chin. Tommy stretches his neck, encouraging him. 

Adam bites, clamps down, teeth piercing through fur and skin, and Tommy cries out as the pain disappears.


	15. Stage Fright (Adam, Tommy, Others ~ Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rows and rows of empty seats rise up in front of Adam, filling all the tiers and the balconies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #085: behind the scenes. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread and to @moodwriter, who took pity on me and shared one of her plot bunnies with me.

The stage is dressed up like Central Park in springtime. Surrounded by flowers and trees, painted and fake, Adam sits on the wooden boards. His legs dangle off the edge. His hands are on his thighs, palms up, and he stares at the theater in front of him. 

Rows and rows of empty seats rise up in front of him, filling all the tiers and the balconies. It's eerily not-silent. Sound echoes from backstage. Barely familiar voices are punctuated by the noise of last minute set design changes.

He takes a deep breath and tries, once again, to ground himself.

o0O0o

Adam knows he can do this. He has done this.

For years, long before he'd heard of American Idol, long before he became a singer and had to worry about album sales, radio spins, being stalked by paparazzi and fans, and knowing whose crap he has to swallow without lashing out in self-defense.

But it was never like this. Before he was always the understudy, no matter how hard he tried. Now they're falling over themselves, offering him the lead role without making him audition for it.

Another breath, this one shakier than the first, and he starts to sing.

o0O0o

He keeps his voice quiet and low, trying to focus on how his character feels in that moment.

Then he trips over the beginning of the second stanza and forgets everything else. 

He's got nothing. He can't remember what comes next, can't remember how it's supposed to sound. Who's supposed to be on stage when he walks on for the first time? 

He's fucked, so completely fucked. Previews start tonight and he's got absolutely nothing. The critics will ravage him. The haters will tear him apart on twitter and in comment sections everywhere.

o0O0o

He doesn't do stage fright, not really. Not even when he sings in front of thousands or more.

Except this time, he apparently does. 

The trembling starts deep in his gut. He brings his legs up, wraps his arms around his shins, and rests his cheek on his bent knees. It feels like his whole body is about shake apart. 

He tightens his muscles, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to hold himself together. The usual pep talk fails dramatically. Somehow it works better when he's not giving it alone.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and he almost falls off the stage and into the pit.

o0O0o

"Motherfuckers," Adam says, "don't do that," but he can't seem to stop smiling at the rightness of this.

Because it's Johnny's hand, and Tommy's sitting down on one side of Adam with his guitar, and Terrance on the other. 

"Turn around," Brian says.

When Adam does, he finds himself part of a circle with Tommy, Terrance, Johnny, Brian, and Ashley. They shift closer, until their knees touch. The only gap is between Tommy and Brian, to make room for the guitar.

"Tommy said you'd need friends." Ashley reaches out and gives Adam's leg a squeeze. "Looks like he was right."

o0O0o

Tommy gets that awkward look on his face, fierce with caring and red with embarrassment at being caught, and Adam can't help but reach over and give him a one-armed hug.

For a moment Tommy seems to melt into Adam. Then Brian clears his throat, and Tommy straightens up and begins to play.

The music brings the words back. They stream through Adam, and he starts to sing. 

Terrance, Johnny, Brian, and Ashley join in at the chorus. Their voices and Tommy's music twine with Adam's, wrap around him, supporting him, making him feel as if he can do anything.


	16. Rehearsal (Adam, Tommy, Taylor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Taylor kept doing it wrong, Adam was going to trip over him, and Tommy was going to lose what was left of his shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Back to GNT-era, hints of D/s
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for , Open Week, for which I chose prompt #018: You're Doing It Wrong. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the pre-read.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just stop already." 

Notes crashed into silence and heads turned as everyone watched Tommy swing his bass around behind his back and stomp over to where Taylor was kneeling in front of Adam. Or, more accurately, attempting to kneel before Adam. Because if Taylor kept doing it wrong, Adam was going to trip over him, and Tommy was going to lose what was left of his shit.

"Not on your fucking hands and knees." Tommy put a hand on each of Taylor's shoulders and shoved down. "You're supposed to be a fucking sub, not a dog."

*

"But I can't crawl in this position," Taylor objected.

Making sure his bass was safely out of the way, Tommy went down on one knee and pulled Taylor's hands behind his back. "You shouldn't move until Adam tells you to anyway."

Putting a hand on the back of Taylor's head, Tommy gently pushed until it was properly bowed. "Hold that position, and keep your eyes down."

"Then how'm I supposed to know when to crawl?"

"Listen to the fucking music?" Tommy suggested. "Or maybe Adam can do his job and tell you. A nudge to your knee should do it."

*

"So, when I—" Taylor lifted his head, and Tommy pushed his head back down.

"Eyes on the ground," Tommy said. "Ask what you want, but maintain the damn position if you're going to submit."

"So, I see the tip of Adam's boot, and then I move?" 

"Like this." Adam spoke for the first time.

Tommy rose to his feet and found himself looking into Adam's eyes. No wide-eyed innocence there, Tommy noticed. More like the kind of weighing judgment he'd seen from the Dommes who'd wanted him to kneel for them.

"Vanilla." Tommy snorted and shook his head. "Whatever, dude."


	17. Semantics (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straight means to be sexually attracted to someone of the opposite sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None  
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, Open Week, for which Minxie chose prompt #025: Private vs Public. Many thanks to Minxie for the pre-read.

Adam and Tommy are curled up on the couch in the sitting room of Adam's hotel suite, lazily making out, when Brian pokes Tommy's thigh with his toe, and says, "I don't think straight means what you think it does." 

"Here we go again," Terrance says, resting his chin on his hands and looking amused.

"Straight means to be sexually attracted to someone of the opposite sex." Tommy sticks his tongue out at Brian and then licks a stripe up Adam's neck. 

"You're a guy," Brian says.

"Duh." Tommy rolls his eyes. 

"And so's Adam."

"Double duh."

"You're not straight."

^V^

"Am too."

"Why are we talking about this? Just tell him already and make him stop." The whining edge to Adam's voice has Tommy running his hand over Adam's dick to shut him up. "

"Oh, yes," Terrance says, reaching for his camera. "Wanna vine this shit."

"Fuck, no, you don't. Adam, tell him."

"He's just teasing," Adam raises his head and narrows his eyes at Terrance, "Or at least he better fucking be."

Terrance raises his hands in defeat and makes a show of locking his phone and putting it on the table beside him. "You guys're no fun."

^V^

Shifting around until he's half-lying across Adam's lap, with his back against Adam's chest and Adam's arms around him, Tommy considers Brian. "This falls under private," he says. "Public silence."

"All right," Brian says.

"You're totally being genderist, dude."

"Genderist," Brian repeats slowly. "As in?"

"As in you're assuming there're only two."

"But..." Brian looks like someone's just slapped him on the back of the head. His mouth gapes open for a second and then he snaps it shut, only to reopen it to say, "Girl, boy, and?"

"A little of both?" Adam suggests.

Tommy shakes his head. "Just me."


	18. Drinks On Me (Brian/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's try this, instead," Brian says, and kisses Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #063: try this. Written for @aislinntlc, who picked the prompt for me and then did a preread.

"No. No. No. Fucking fuck NO!" Tommy all but tosses his guitar onto the floor and, resting his elbows on his knees, pulls at his hair. "Why can't I fucking get that chorus right?"

"We could—"

"No," Tommy snaps. "We fucking can't." Reaching blindly for the whisky, he takes a long drink.

Brian saves what they've been doing and goes over to the couch. "You'll get it," he says, taking the whisky from Tommy and raising it to his lips.

They sit there, trading off drinks, until Brian smiles at Tommy. 

"Let's try this, instead," he says, and kisses Tommy.

♥

Tommy freezes for a moment, then licks at Brian's lips. Desperate, scrabbling need burns through him the way the music had been only a few minutes earlier.

The bottle falls to the floor, and Brian pushes Tommy back against the couch and stretches out on top of him. His dick presses into the crease of Tommy's thigh.

Tommy bucks up against him. 

"Yeah, baby," Brian says, grinding down against him.

It's hard and fast. Their kisses are near-vicious bites and sucks that drive Tommy to push up against Brian, leave Tommy cursing and clawing at the cushions as he comes.

♥

Brian slows down, calms their kiss. His hips rock down, rotate, pressing harder and harder until he's shuddering his release and breathing something Tommy can't hear into Tommy's mouth.

One more kiss, made awkward by a jubilant smile, and Brian's reaching for Tommy's guitar. "One more time," he says.

"Yeah?" 

"Oh yeah."

Tommy's grinning like a fucking idiot, not-quite-uncomfortable in the cooling damp of his underwear and jeans, and yet he doesn't take his guitar from Brian. Instead, he pushes the damp hair out of his face and runs a finger over Brian's lips.

"Should've tried that before," he says.


	19. A Familiar Comfort (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a silly, stupid thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #074: comfort. For @dude__ette, who chose the prompt. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy's poking through Adam's closet, looking for a hoodie because his own is covered in Riff's spit-up when he finds the bear. It's a silly, stupid thing. Old and tattered with spots that are rubbed bare, ripped stitching, and a patch over one eye where the button fell off many years earlier.

Rising up onto his toes, Tommy pulls the bear down from the high shelf, holds it close. He breathes in the scent of Adam's cologne, familiar and comforting like the bear must be.

A smile on his face, Tommy kisses the bear's patched nose before putting it back.


	20. Midnight Ritual (Tommy/OMC)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On nights like tonight, when his need has crested beyond his ability to pretend, Tommy waits until after midnight before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** BDSM
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for , prompt #016: Midnight Secrets. For @zoodlemouse13, who picked the prompt and the pairing. Many thanks to @MyPrivateAffair and @aislinntlc for the preread.

On nights like tonight, when his need has crested beyond his ability to pretend, Tommy waits until after midnight before leaving. His destination is a quiet house at the end of a very long, unpaved, and rutted road off Topanga Canyon.

He uses his own key to open the front door and taps in the alarm code before the security system can go off. 

His keys, wallet, phone, and a handful of picks go into the bowl beside the door. His shoes and socks are left neatly beside the table.

Then he walks barefoot through the house to the den.

☯

Tommy hovers in the door, feeling awkward, his need exposed. When Kai raises his head and smiles at him, Tommy turns and walks up the circular stairs, around and around, through the bedroom, to a large room at the top of the house.

Light from the full moon floods the room through floor to ceiling windows. Starlight comes in through the glass roof and seems to reflect back up from the floor.

Without hesitating, Tommy goes to the small mat in the center of the room and kneels. He places his hands behind his back, bows his head, and waits.

☯

Kai's hand is gentle on the back of Tommy's neck.

"They cut into me," Tommy says when he can't resist any longer, "with their words and demands. I just want to hide, watch the world go by without me." 

The rub of Kai's thumb against Tommy's nape lets Tommy know he won't get away with that.

"I've got a gig tomorrow night, and a rehearsal on Saturday. And then a studio session and another gig. Only one with Adam." Tommy takes a ragged breath. "I can't... fuck, I don't even remember how to play. It's there, but it's so lost."

☯

The panic that's almost choking Tommy eases when Kai slides his fingers into Tommy's hair and yanks back, almost painfully, and turns Tommy's head.

The bed is small but comfortable, made up with nothing but a pillow and a sheet, gleaming white in the darkness.

At a signal from Kai, Tommy rises with only a little awkwardness and walks over to the bed. He takes his clothes off with little ceremony and leaves them neatly folded on the dresser. Then he crawls on the bed and lies down on his back in the middle with his hands over his head.

☯

The cuffs are heavy leather, lined with soft flannel. They fit around Tommy's wrists and ankles as if they were made for him. Steel chains connect his wrists to the bedhead, drawing his arms wide, giving him an anchor.

He bites his lip, then stops when Kai taps his chin. 

"Please," Tommy says.

Leaning down, his long dark hair falling over Tommy's face, Kai kisses him. Tommy opens up, lets him in, and then kisses back. It's a promise, a claiming, and Tommy gives it all. 

He surges upward, biting at Kai's lip, only to still when Kai pulls back.

☯

Tommy's complaints die when he sees the understanding in Kai's green eyes.

Kai cups Tommy's unshaven cheeks, slides a blindfold over Tommy's eyes. He touches every inch of skin. Goosebumps follow in the wake of his gentle caresses, sending shivers down Tommy's spine. 

"Fuck," Tommy whispers. "I can't. Please?"

The slap on Tommy's hip echoes around the room, shocks through Tommy, drags a moan from him. The second slap is harder, more intense, repeated again and again. 

The pinpoint of heat becomes a steady beat of pain, resonating through Tommy's pelvis, curling around his dick, leaving him hard and wanting.

☯

The mattress bounces slightly as Kai settles between Tommy's legs. The first scratch of Kai's uneven nails on the inside of Tommy's thighs makes Tommy hiss and spread his legs wider, opening up, inviting Kai in.

The second scratch has Tommy curling his hands around the chains, holding on. 

There's another scratch, then a bite, and a kiss so gentle that tears prick the insides of Tommy's eyelids.

He falls into the feeling, into the pain and the comfort, never knowing which will come next. The voices that have been fucking with his head are quieting, banished by Kai's touch.

☯

Kai's fingers are long, strong, and slick with lube. They press into Tommy, stretching him, filling him. Then Kai pulls out and plays with the rim of Tommy's hole. He tugs on the edge of the muscle and presses into it with his nails.

It's so fucking exactly what Tommy needs that a sob catches in his throat. His hands automatically flex on the chains, relaxing and then tightening again until the steel links bite into his fingers and palms. 

When Kai enters Tommy with a single thrust, bottoming out, Tommy's legs fall even further open and Tommy comes undone.

☯

Each time Kai rocks into him, Tommy gives a little more over to Kai, letting Kai take what he wants, letting Kai give him what he needs.

There are no words, no music except the sounds made by their bodies, no beat except the rhythm of Kai's thrusts.

The song, though, twines between them and through them. It's every feeling that's building inside Tommy, cresting up and up, until Kai slides a hand between them and gives Tommy's dick a single harsh tug.

With that, orgasm pulses over him in a spiral of notes and darkness wraps itself around him.

☯

When Tommy opens his eyes, he's been released from the cuffs and cleaned up. He's cradled in Kai's arms, being warmed by Kai's body and the blanket wrapped around them.

Unable to find words for his happiness, Tommy tucks Kai's hair behind his ear.

Kai responds with a nod, signing a slow, clear _Any time_. 

There's water afterward, and food Kai hand-feeds to Tommy.

Even later, Tommy kisses Kai and, before he can change his mind, says, "Come see me play."

The startled joy in Kai's eyes, the way he holds Tommy's hand to his chest, follow Tommy into sleep.


	21. Quiet Together (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, an occasional street noise that seems to come from faraway.
> 
> And them, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** werewolves
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #011: quiet during Open Week. For @moodwriter who picked the prompt and the pairing. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Their home is quiet. No music playing. The TV is turned off. Even their phones have been set on airplane mode to avoid annoying vibrations and left in the living room to make sure they aren't tempted to check twitter or instagram or whatever.

There's just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, an occasional street noise that seems to come from faraway.

And them, of course.

Tommy's lying on their bed, propped up on pillows, covers pooled around his hips. Adam's sprawled out over Tommy's legs with his head resting in the crook of Tommy's left arm.

o0O0o

With so much silence, Tommy's feelings, his fears, his needs, leak out in words. Though he talks about everything except what matters.

"It's like the calm before the storm. The eye of a fucking hurricane. Or maybe that weird ass feeling that comes seconds before an earthquake."

In response, Adam nuzzles meaningfully at Tommy's arm. 

"It's like that, huh? Greedy bitch."

When Adam nuzzles again, Tommy relents and moves his other hand from Adam's back, up to the back of Adam's neck. The fur is denser there, more than long enough for Tommy to dig his fingers in and scratch.

o0O0o

Adam's tail thumps hard against the bed, and Tommy's leg. He makes a sound of contentment.

"Yeah, I know. I'll always have you." Tommy snickers, or at least that's what he means to do, no matter how it comes out. "Christ, I sound like one of those crappy old romance movies that my mom loves so much."

The thought of his mom sends a sharp pain through Tommy's chest, sends him back to the precipice that had Adam declaring this a quiet night. Tommy's distracted, though, pulled away from the edge, when Adam drags a sharp canine over his skin.

o0O0o

"You know I'm right." Tommy tugs on Adam's fur. "Give me that much."

Adam answers with a whine and he nudges at Tommy's arm, until Tommy's hand is under his chin. Tommy obediently rubs his knuckles along the length of Adam's jaw.

After a moment, everything becomes too much again. As much as he finds comfort in the simplicity of Adam's wolf, in the rhythm of petting and scratching and the solid weight of Adam's lupine body, Tommy needs more than this. 

He stops petting Adam and slides down, curving himself until he's curled around Adam, not just beneath him.

o0O0o

Tommy hugs Adam, pressing his face into Adam's fur. "Need you," he mumbles. "Not like this. It's not enough tonight."

Adam huffs a sigh. His skin ripples and flows, reforms, feeling soft, almost silken against Tommy's skin as the shift happens. Then, Tommy's holding onto a human Adam.

"Your mom loves you." Adam turns to face him. "And she's not going to stop loving you. Not even over this."

The words feel so much like a slap that Tommy flinches. Adam holds him tighter and brushes a kiss over Tommy's lips that feels so gentle, so loving, it's exquisitely painful.

o0O0o

Adam skims his fingers beneath Tommy's eyes, as if to wipe away tears that aren't there.

"It's just love, baby. Nothing to be ashamed about."

"I'm not ashamed. I'll never be ashamed, not of you, of me, or of us. No matter what the assholes think," Tommy says. "They don't have a fucking clue."

Tommy curls closer to Adam, revels in his solidity, in his surety. 

Nothing anyone says, no matter how much they know or don't know, Tommy thinks, can come close to this. To this man who had the patience to wait for Tommy to change his life.


	22. Not at First Sight (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy doesn't believe in love at first sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #047: I can resist everything except temptation during Open Week. For @toobusy2write who picked the prompt and the pairing. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread. The picture I'm referring to is, of course, [this one](http://instagram.com/p/ZgURifONN0/#).

Tommy doesn't believe in love at first sight. Lust at first sight maybe, but even that requires actual conversation. He needs more than a perfect pair of tits or a great ass. No brain, no sense of humor, no flexibility, and he's heading in the opposite direction as far and as fast as he can.

He's known this about himself for years. Just like he knows that the occasional guy does it for him, because it's about the person, not only the body. He mostly doesn't bother though, because most guys aren't worth the hassle. 

And tits are fucking awesome.

▼

None of which explains why he's suddenly fallen head over non-existent ass for Adam after they've been friends for years.

Yeah, so he's never really seen Adam just letting loose with Riff like this. Not in public, at least, where there are people with cameras and phones. Where just about anyone and everyone and their grandma could take a picture of Adam being completely uncool, horsing around with a kid riding on his shoulders. 

Which is, Tommy can't help but think, its own super awesome kind of cool.

And it's a temptation like nothing he's ever felt for anyone before.

▼

Then Lee emails them a photograph that Tommy wasn't even aware he'd taken, showing the exact fucking moment when Tommy figured his shit out. Within minutes, Adam has posted the pic on instagram.

Before he can stop himself, Tommy is doing the same thing. It's an awesome picture of all three of them, after all. Well, two of them. Adam's making one of his stupid ass faces, but it makes Tommy smile anyway. 

He forgets about it though, through days and weeks filled with rehearsals, songwriting, session work, and a thousand other things that have nothing to do with Adam.

▼

Tommy drops back into it the next time he sees Adam. They're supposed to talk about the upcoming shows, and Adam's dressed right the fuck down in a well-worn t-shirt and jeans with a grass stain on the knee.

"Forgot to do the laundry again?" Tommy shoots a pointed glance at the green mark.

Adam looks down and laughs. "Oh my god, I didn't even notice," he says, brushing ineffectively at it. "Must have happened at lunch when I was playing Riff's horse."

The image flashes across Tommy's mind, and he inhales a quick breath as he's flooded with desire.

▼

Averting his eyes, wanting to look anywhere but at Adam, Tommy finds himself staring at _the_ photograph. Framed and hanging on the wall with Adam's other family pictures.

It's like a magnet, drawing Tommy in. He goes to stand in front of it, tilting his head, trying to work out why his heart's beating so fast. Why this photograph out of all of them over the years.

"It's a good picture," Adam says.

Tommy can't help but correct him. "It's a _great_ picture."

The silence that grows between them is awkward, full of unspoken words that Tommy totally doesn't get.

▼

He wants to understand, but whatever he was going to ask is lost when he sees the expression on Adam's face, and what comes out is, "You should have kids, you know."

"Some day," Adam responds. "When I'm with the right person."

Biting his lip, Tommy manages not to say, _Me?_

Or he thinks he does until Adam spins around and reaches out to gently pull Tommy's lower lip from between his teeth. His thumb lingers on Tommy's mouth, and Tommy can't resist kissing it. Can't resist moving closer and kissing Adam, opening up to him, offering himself to Adam.


	23. A Little Hope (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if giving her a name means there's no reason for Tommy to wake up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Werewolves, references to mpreg
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #086: hope. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread. (And, seriously, my apologies for the pun in the title.)

She's mostly bald, her body's long and skinny, and Adam thinks she's the most beautiful baby in the hospital. He wants to call her Hope because he doesn't have much of that right now, except when he's holding her, but he's terrified of naming her before Tommy can tell him how stupid the name is.

And what if giving her a name means there's no reason for Tommy to wake up?

"Your Daddy is a silly alpha," he whispers. "And all because of you and a stupid omega." Eyes rimmed with red, he growls, " _who needs to fucking wake up._ "

*

As if that had truly been an order, alpha to a pack member, Tommy's hand flexes. It's more movement than Adam's seen from him in three days.

The monitors and pumps attached to Tommy don't react. At least, not that Adam can tell. And no one comes rushing into the room, like they do on TV.

Adam's wolf, though, wants to snarl at Tommy, to curl around him and their baby. She snuffles and stretches one arm out of her blanket, as if she's reaching for Tommy.

It's enough to push Adam out of the chair and onto the bed.

*

He moves carefully, fitting himself and their baby into the space available without jostling Tommy too much. When he's done, she's lying partly on Tommy's chest and arm, and partly against Adam. Adam's mouth is near Tommy's ear.

Spreading his hand, so he can touch both of them, Adam takes a deep breath and focuses. His wolf rises to the surface, confused, angry, protective, determined. The red in his eyes deepens, blazes alpha dark. The wolf's fear, Adam's fear, makes his voice vibrate as if he were growling.

"Wake up, you lazy ass of an omega. Your pack needs you."

*

Tommy, of course, pays him absolutely no attention. He continues to sleep. His eyes are closed, and his chest barely seems to rise and fall.

"Fuck you," Adam mutters. "Fuck you and your stupid fucking desire to have a baby. Fuck you and every fucking person who encouraged you, including me. We could have—"

A lump clogs Adam's throat, turning his voice into something that isn't a whine or a sob. _Stupid wolf._

Their baby whimpers in her sleep.

"Asshole."

The insult's more croaked than spoken, but it has Adam crying, the baby screaming, and people rushing into the room.

*

Hours later, everyone else finally leaves. The poking, prodding, visiting, and calling are over for now, and the three of them are alone again.

Tommy's hair's sticking up, and he looks like shit, but he's cuddling the baby and scowling at Adam. "I hate people," he says. "And being stuck in a room with a door that doesn't fucking lock. And I totally fucking hate that I missed the first three days of her life."

Biting back a _you didn't miss much_ that Adam knows will be more annoying than reassuring, he says, "Just don't miss any more of it."

*

"Awww, you silly fucker, get your ass over here." Tommy pats the bed next to him.

Before he goes over there, Adam resists for a second or two, although he hasn't a clue why. Perching carefully on the edge of the bed isn't good enough for Tommy, who elbows Adam until he's able to lean back against Adam's chest, instead of pillows, and Adam's arms around both of them.

Nostrils flaring, Adam detects Tommy's scent beneath the medicinal overlay. He buries his nose in Tommy's hair, reflexively tightening his arms around them. 

_Safe_ thrums through Adam, and his wolf calms.

*

"All right," Tommy says. "Spill."

"I don't know—" 

"Fuck that noise. Yeah, you do."

Taking another deep breath, catching their baby's scent too, Adam says, "That allergic reaction the doctor talked about. You had a seizure, almost as soon as they gave you the painkillers." He inhales again, needing the reassurance before admitting, "I couldn't feel you. For so long."

"'M sorry." Carefully shifting around, Tommy curls awkwardly against Adam.

"It wasn't your fault." Adam kisses Tommy's temple. "Just don't do that again, baby. Please."

"Not going to, promise," Tommy says. He runs a cupped hand over their baby's head.

*

"She got a name yet?"

"Not officially," Adam says.

Tommy runs a fingertip over the wing of her eyebrow. "And unofficially?"

Catching her foot in his hand, marveling at its tininess, Adam says, "Hope?"

"Super hokey," is Tommy's response, but smiles and offers, "It would make a great middle name."

The alpha in Adam wants to protest; it's their first child and her name is his prerogative. Instead, he asks, "All right, what do you want?"

"Sinead," Tommy says. 

"Umm." Adam mentally pairs it with his last name and winces.

"After my grandma because she loved me no matter what."

*

Tommy gives him that look, the one that caught Adam's attention on that first day, and Adam's wolf all but rolls over and shows his belly.

"Damn it." 

"Thank you," Tommy says, and he kisses the corner of Adam's mouth. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

Adam's totally fucked, and he knows it. Not that he actually gives a shit, as long as nobody else, especially his dad and brother, have a clue how deep in it he actually is.

As Tommy dozes off and Sinead burbles in her sleep, Adam closes his eyes, content for the first time in days.


	24. To Blow or Not to Blow (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do they or don't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** Nothing really
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #087: suck and blow. Many thanks to @toobusy2write for the preread. (And, yeah, I'm pretty much this evil.)

Brian and Ashley stop dead outside Adam's dressing room, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

"Fuck, Adam, your mouth."

Something clatters to the ground. Tommy says, "Did you just fucking blow on... shit!"

A bang against the wall makes the door rattle. 

"Don't," Adam growls. "You almost choked me."

Ashley gives Brian a knowing smile. He shakes his head, mouthing, _No way._

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

_Yes way,_ Ashley mouths back.

This time it's a thud and a strange sucking noise that neither of them can identify.

At Tommy's strangled cry, they move together, pushing open the unlocked door, and see Adam and Tommy—


	25. An Irresistible Addiction (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an addiction, and Tommy knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Vampires
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #088: skin. Many thanks to @toobusy2write for the preread.

It's an addiction, and Tommy knows it, but he can't change it. Or, more truthfully, he wouldn't change it for the world even if he could. He just fucking loves the feel of skin beneath his tongue, his lips. 

His tongue peeking out, Tommy slides his mouth down Adam's chest. He can feel the soft velvet of Adam's skin, the tickling tease of crinkly red hair against his lips. Licking around Adam's nipple, he tastes salt and sweat and Adam. Sweet, salty, and a little spicy. 

Humming with pleasure, Tommy flicks his tongue over the skin, feels Adam's nipple peak.

^V^

"You tease." Adam's groan is half-complaint, half-demand for more. The fingers of his left hand spasm in Tommy's hair as Tommy drags a pointed tooth over the nipple.

Adam arches underneath him, presses his chest into Tommy's mouth, holds Tommy's head in place. "Bastard of a tease."

The accusation, the knowledge that he can take Adam to the edge just by licking, sucking, nipping, flashes through Tommy and goes right to his dick.

Smiling against Adam's skin, Tommy swirls his tongue gently over the peak. Then as Adam's back bows further, as he murmurs a pleading, "Fuck," Tommy sucks hard.

^V^

With each touch of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on Adam's skin, Tommy works to drive Adam that little bit wilder. Each time Adam writhes against him, sliding his dick over Tommy's hip, sets off a burst of sensation that flashes through Tommy.

Hunger and need thrum through Tommy. He wants to feel more of Adam, of Adam's skin. He pushes back against Adam's hold, straddling Adam's hips and sitting on Adam's dick. 

Tommy rolls his hips. Adam groans, bucks upward, and still slick with lube from before, the head of his dick slides over the base of Tommy's.

^V^

Curling over Adam, Tommy drags his lips over Adam's chest to the other nipple. There's more sweat, and the taste of Adam is a flash of heat through Tommy. Their dicks slide against each other, and Adam grabs onto Tommy's hip with his free hand, holding him there as Adam thrusts against him.

It's not enough, and it's too much, drawing a wrecked sound from Adam that steals Tommy's breath away.

"Tell me," he says, and breathes out. His breath makes Adam's skin shiver and pebble. Tommy does it again. Then he captures Adam's nipple between his teeth and tugs.

^V^

Lick, blowing air on damp skin, then a careful tug. Tommy repeats it over and over, moving from one of Adam's nipples to the other.

Until, finally, Adam moans and pulls on Tommy's hair, sending shockwaves down Tommy's spine. "Fuck, baby. I need..."

Tommy waits. When Adam doesn't continue, he runs the sharp edges of his teeth down Adam's sternum. "Tastes so good."

"More," Adam groans, breaking the word into two syllables. 

Lifting his head, Tommy looks into Adam's eyes. He rolls his hips and grinds down on Adam's dick. He licks his lips with quick darts of his tongue.

^V^

Adam releases Tommy's hair. His fingers are trembling as he slides them over Tommy's cheek and jaw to rest on Tommy's lower lip, to touch Tommy's teeth.

The desire on Adam's face makes Tommy's own hunger rise. An ache of need runs through him, so intense that it's almost painful. He takes a deep breath and tries to regain control of himself. 

Then Adam's lips curve into a smile, and he presses the pad of his thumb against the point of Tommy's fang.

A single drop of blood oozes from a tiny cut in Adam's skin, falls onto Tommy's lip.

^V^

"Now." Adam's hand curls around Tommy's neck, pulling him down at the same time as he rolls them over.

Tommy follows without thinking, spreading his legs, wrapping them around Adam's hips. 

"Now, baby," Adam says. His hips rotate slowly, sliding their dicks together, and he tilts his head, baring his neck.

Caught in a haze of need and hunger, Tommy bucks upward, rubbing his dick against Adam's, as he bites through Adam's skin into the jugular.

Venom-laced pleasure soaks through Tommy into Adam. He can feel Adam's heartbeat, sense the pulsing rush of orgasm, taste his love.

He's Tommy's everything.


	26. Shameless (Adam/Tommy/Brian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam rolled over onto his side, toward the sounds, and saw them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
>  **Content:** Double penetration
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for , prompt #089: shameless boyz. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Adam woke up slowly. He stretched, long and luxurious, giving a light scratch to his belly, just below the waistband of his shorts, and sending a pleased shiver through his body. 

The shade underneath the umbrella was bright with the sunlight filtering through the fabric and reflecting off the flagstones. He squinted and felt around for his sunglasses, shoving them on as soon as he could.

For a couple of seconds, he couldn't see anyone around. His heart gave a heavy thump in his chest at the thought of being left alone on the terrace of this rented beach house.

\|/

Then he heard a wrecked moan, followed by a raspy extended "Fuuuuuck" that curled down his spine and licked at the base of his dick, weighting it hard and heavy. He rolled over onto his side, toward the sounds, and saw them.

Brian lay on his back. Sweat gleamed on his dark skin. His arms were flung out to the side, and he was clutching at the grass. His legs were bent at the knees, supporting Tommy.

Tommy was straddling Brian's hips, riding Brian's dick. His head thrown back, baring the length of his neck, he rose to his knees.

\|/

Tommy lifted up, until Adam could fucking see Brian's dick between Tommy's legs, until he could imagine how it was stretching Tommy's hole.

His legs splayed wide, skin prickling into goosebumps beneath his palm, Adam slid his hand down his chest and into his shorts.

Tommy slowly lowered himself down, until his ass was pressed against Brian's skin. Then he raised his eyes to look directly into Adam's and swept his tongue over his lips. Slowly, lasciviously, leaving a damp trail across his bottom lip that had Adam licking his own, chasing the taste and the feel of Tommy's tongue.

\|/

"Shameless," Adam whispered, with a meaningful glance at the few clouds and blue sky overhead.

But what he meant was heartless or thoughtless. Or maybe careless, because that's how they'd been treating his heart and what he was starting to learn was his love.

He'd watched them grow closer, make music together that wasn't Adam's, lean against each other onstage, touch and smile and tap each other's asses. This, though, was all of that and everything else that Adam had been dreading. His boys, the ones he'd known at different times in his life, getting together and leaving him behind.

\|/

"Idiot," Brian muttered. He slipped his hands between Tommy's legs and fingered the lube-slick, hot space where his and Tommy's bodies were joined.

The image swamped Adam, flooded his body with heat. His hips jerked upward, thrusting his dick into the circle of his hand.

Tommy shivered visibly and pushed down onto Brian's hand. "Oh fuck, Bri. I can't... Goddamn it. I need. So much."

That was when Brian's eyes flicked over to Adam's. "Yo, idiot. Get your ass over here."

Adam's dick twitched in his hand, his throat ached with emptiness. He all but fucking crawled over to them.

\|/

When Adam reached them, Tommy grabbed onto him and kissed him. It was a desperate, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss full of teeth and tongues, and it had Adam pressing close to Tommy and humping Brian's leg.

"Wrap it," Brian said.

With a reflexive snap of his hand, Adam almost managed to catch the lube and condom packet before they hit the ground. He missed, though, and had to stop kissing Tommy to scrabble for them.

He was rolling on the condom, lubing himself up, when Tommy curled over Brian's chest, exposing his ass, stretched and opened by Brian's dick and fingers.

\|/

Adam squeezed the base of his dick, desperately not wanting to blow his load at the sight of Tommy's hole. "Are you—"

"He needs more," Brian said. "He needs you."

He pulled Tommy's hole open a little wider, dragging a groan out of Tommy. "He needs us."

"Stop fucking wallowing in that needy shit," Tommy said, pushing back and down, taking more of Brian's dick and fingers inside himself. "And fuck me already."

"Tommy." The name was punched out of Adam's lungs, along with all of his air. He took in a long, shaky breath, and moved between Brian's legs.

\|/

It was an achingly slow slide inside Tommy, guided by Brian's fingers, and when Adam was there, when his dick was being hugged tight by Tommy's hole and Brian's dick, Adam had to hold on to Brian's legs for support.

They found a rhythm quickly, with an ease born from months (and years) of playing music together. Working to a beat that spun music out of Adam's soul, alternating long strokes and short stuttering fucks into Tommy, Adam thrust in as Brian pulled out. Never quite bottoming out.

Tommy rocked his hips, fucking himself on their dicks, taking them both.

\|/

The garden was filled with sound: the wet slap of flesh, Brian's low, growled unintelligible chanting, the words of love that Adam couldn't hold inside if he tried. And the sounds that spilled from Tommy, each one more broken than the one before.

Each one drove Adam higher and higher, tilted him off his axis, until he had to lean forward over Tommy. Bracing himself with his hands on the ground, the fingers of one hand laced with Brian's, Adam fucked hard into Tommy at the same time Brian thrust up. 

Tommy's wrecked, wrung-out cry dragged Adam over into orgasm.

\|/

Afterwards, when the condoms were gone and they were all cleaned and dressed, Tommy pushed Adam onto his back and curled into his side. Brian lay down on Adam's other side. They kissed each other and kissed him, brief but affectionate brushes of their lips.

Feeling awkward, as if he were an intruder, Adam said, "I should—"

"You should stay right the fuck here." Tommy slid an arm over Adam's chest and rested his head on Adam's shoulder, pinning him.

Brian rose up on one elbow, and looked down into Adam's eyes. "Walk away now," he said, "or stay forever."

\|/

_Forever_. The word was an echo, a vibration that shook Adam's bones, tossed him up in the air and let him fall back down to the ground. He lay there for a second, feeling dazed.

"Just fucking say something." Tommy lifted his head. He had that look on his face, one that was achingly familiar to Adam, as if he was bracing himself for rejection.

It was the way Brian reached for Tommy, ran his fingers through Tommy's sweat-damp hair, and caressed his cheek that freed Adam's tongue. 

"Shameless," he whispered, "all three of us."

And he hugged them close.


	27. After the Change (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a sigh, Tommy gets to his feet. He spreads his wings and waits for the gawkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Wing!fic
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #090: fair. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Tommy curls up at the back of his cage, wrapping his tattered wings around himself. Shivers wrack his body. Not from the cold air that comes into the tent with the night breeze, but from the laughter it carries with it and the knowledge of what's to come. 

Nights are the worst.

"This one, Daddy. Is he the one?" A young girl's voice, high and sweet, pierces the heavy canvas.

Resting his forehead on his knees, Tommy bites his lip against the ache that tears into his heart. He had a niece once, before they came and took him away.

>>o<<

The bang of the gong vibrates through the tent, startling Tommy. For a moment, he considers not obeying the rules, telling the fairmistress to fuck off, but he's got nowhere else to go. 

Fucking laws and the motherfuckers who enforce them. Lisa had taken him in afterward, wings and all, and had tried to keep him. But they'd said one mutant per family, and there was no way to prove that Bridget wouldn't turn.

The gong sounds again, imperious and impatient this time.

With a sigh, Tommy gets to his feet. He spreads his wings and waits for the gawkers.

>>o<<

They're more of the usual. The teenage girls giggle and whisper to each other and to teenage boys who try to make themselves look good by harassing the weirdo mutant. Parents bring their children, some as a cautionary tale and others wanting to show how liberal they are.

Hour after hour, the gawkers move past Tommy's cage. They're permitted to stop for a few minutes that seems like an eternity most of the time. 

By the end of the night, the stream has become a trickle and Tommy's aching in body and soul. 

That, of course, is when they appear.

>>o<<

The father is tall and dark, and something in him calls to Tommy so strongly that he wants to cower and hide in the back of his cage. The girl, though, does the opposite, making Tommy want to blow through the bars, kneel before her, and hold her. 

She's probably about six or seven and has long red hair that curls riotously. She's yawning so widely that Tommy knows she has to be up long past her bedtime.

Her gaze is solemn as she lets go of her father's hand and comes to stand right in front of Tommy's cage.

>>o<<

"I'm Shira," she says, "and you're Tommy, aren't you?"

Tommy's knees buckle, and he has to reach for one of the bars to hold himself upright. Words run through his mind in a stuttered mess: how, what, who. But shock has stolen his voice.

"Daddy told me your name." 

Tommy follows the tilt of her head to look up at the man behind her, and he's caught by a pair of blue eyes that catch at his heart. He should know this man, he thinks, and a part of him mourns for all the memories he lost when he changed.

>>o<<

"I've been looking for you," the man says. Then, when Shira grabs his hand and tugs, he adds, "We've been looking."

Tommy shakes his head. "I don't know you."

"You did. Once upon a time. Before." The man makes a helpless gesture, one that encompasses Tommy, his wings, the cage, even more that Tommy can't begin to guess at.

"I want him to come home with us." Shira tugs harder on her father's hand. "Now, Daddy."

"I have your guitars," the man says, as if he hadn't heard her, putting a name to one of the rents in Tommy's soul.

>>o<<

Tommy moves to the front of his cage, as close to them as he can get. "I want," he manages to get out.

Swinging Shira up onto one hip, the man steps right up to the cage. "Adam," he says.

Music flashes through Tommy's mind, a voice rising and falling, before vanishing again. 

"I don't remember." Tommy presses closer, until the bars dig into him. They'll leave bruises, he knows, but for once he doesn't care.

"It doesn't matter." Adam rests his hand on Tommy's shoulder. It feels familiar, making Tommy feel like crying for a loss he never knew.

>>o<<

Shira reaches out, wrapping her hand around the bone of one of Tommy's wings. Her touch feels comfortable though, not invasive. Tommy doesn't understand why he wants to take her in his arms and cuddle even closer to Adam, instead of pushing them both away and heading for the safety that is the back of his cage.

The whole thing is fucking nuts. Crazy cray cray. 

And where the fuck did that word come from? 

"It's okay." Shira strokes Tommy's wing, raising goosebumps on Tommy's back. "Daddy'll take care of everything."

When Tommy looks up, curious, Adam shrugs. "I'm trying."

>>o<<

They stay like that for a few seconds, or maybe minutes. Tommy's not sure he knows how to tell time anymore. Then it all gets even fucking crazier. 

The flaps of the tent are flung open, and two men and a woman race inside followed by the fairmistress in her uniform. 

"Done," the woman says.

Shira claps and squeals, loud enough and high-pitched enough that Tommy would put his hands over his ears if that didn't mean letting go of Adam's arm. Not that he remembers holding on to it.

"Thank you." Adam smiles at her and squeezes Tommy's shoulder.

>>o<<

Then, for the first time in months, the fairmistress opens the door to Tommy's cage. Tommy stares at the open space, at the people on the other side who could come in and touch him, hurt him. 

None of them do though. Instead, Shira wriggles down out of Adam's hold and runs into the cage to grab Tommy's hand. 

"You can leave now," she says, "and come home with us."

"Home?"

Her smile wobbles. "Don't you want to?"

Tommy crouches down and uses his thumb to pull her mouth back up at the corner, trying to make her smile again.

>>o<<

Adam moves then, coming inside and kneeling on the ground. He wraps his arms around them. His hug is warm, almost as desperate as Tommy feels. 

He brushes his lips against Tommy's temple, and Tommy just leans into him, against him, trusting Adam to hold his weight.

The fairmistress clears her throat. "You have to leave now, but first..." She holds out a white plastic collar.

"No! Not for my Tommy." Shira jumps to her feet and runs to one of the men. "Give it to me."

This collar is silver with black stars and musical notes engraved on it.

>>o<<

Balancing the collar on her palms, Shira holds out her hands and offers it to Tommy. "I picked this one for you, and Daddy bought it."

The collar is as beautiful as it's ugly. Everyone will know that Tommy is property, not human. 

A laugh, rusty and painful, rasps its way up Tommy's throat. He's such a fucking idiot. It's not like he can hide that shit, with his wings rising up behind him. 

"Let me," Adam says. 

And, somehow, with Adam's hands, warm and large and reassuringly strong, sliding around his neck, Tommy doesn't feel trapped by the collar.

>>o<<

"Will you come home with us?" Adam asks, rising to his feet. 

"Yes," Shira says. She holds up her arms, clearly expecting Tommy to pick her up. 

He blinks and then reaches down for her. She's heavier than he expected, and it almost hurts to have her legs wrapped around his waist. Tommy's first step is almost a stumble, but then Adam slides an arm around him, steadying him. 

They walk to the tent's entrance, with the three others following behind them. A couple of larger men fall into place on either side of them as they leave the tent.

>>o<<

They walk past what seems like hundreds of tents, each with a sign identifying its occupant. 

Tommy can't look though. The world is too big, and he keeps expecting someone to seize him and tear him away from them. He turns his face and rests his head on Adam's shoulder, and he focuses on Shira's constant babble about their house and her toys and a thousand other things that mean nothing to Tommy. 

And he lets Adam guide him down and out and away into a future that he thinks might be a lot like the past he can't remember.


	28. An Amp By Any Other Name (Tommy, Ashley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's just not quite right with Tommy's new amp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** G
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** LOL No
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #091: labels. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Running through another riff, Tommy frowned at his new amp. She sounded fucking awesome, but something was off.

He repeated it, his frown deepening into a scowl.

"Sounding great," Ashley said.

"I guess." Tommy played a bluesy chord progression. "Sound's clean enough, but... She's just not right."

"Not right?"

"Yeah. I can't put my finger on what's wrong with her."

Cocking her head, Ashley looked from Tommy to the stack. Then she moved the duct tape holding the cables a bit higher, covering part of the name.

Tommy stared. Then he slashed out a bit of Motorbreath and whooped, "Marsha!"


	29. Air Signs (Sutan/Adam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are times when the ache beneath Adam's skin grows beyond his ability to ignore, when he feels incapable of being, of breathing, of singing for one moment longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Breathplay
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #093: air. Many thanks to @MyPrivateAffair and @aislinntlc for the preread.
> 
> Also counts for the Held Down square on my Kink Bingo card.

Adam's mostly a top. He's never lied about that. He rarely bottoms, and there are very few people for whom he'll hit his knees. But there are times when the ache beneath his skin grows beyond his ability to ignore, when he feels incapable of being, of breathing, of singing for one moment longer. 

This is one of those times. 

Worse, really, because Adam's had weeks of meetings, studio sessions, of this and that and the other, and all the things that come with being a singer in the middle of making an album and negotiating with a new label.

♎

He's at his own party when things reach the point where he wants to scream out his frustration, curl up into a ball and cry because he can't remember how to ask for what he needs. Hell, he's not sure he knows how to string syllables into words.

An hour later, his hands shake when he goes to refill his drink. He flattens them on the surface of the bar and takes a deep breath, then another and another. When he's sure he won't fly apart, he abandons his glass and heads for the balcony. 

Hopefully it's less crowded outside.

♎

"Adam!"

Only a few steps from the sliding glass doors, Adam stops and turns toward the voice. It's someone's date for the evening, maybe? Hopefully not a gatecrasher, Adam hates dealing with the shit that comes with unwanted guests.

"Cool party, man."

"Glad you're having fun."

The guy sways over and, raising his phone, throws an arm around him. It takes everything Adam has not to recoil. Instead, he shapes his mouth into his best photo-op smile. 

"My friends are gonna fucking _expire_ when I instagram this," the guy says, staring at his phone as he leaves without another word.

♎

A high-pitched drunken laugh comes from near the front door, catching Adam's attention. The guy is joining a large crowd of acquaintances and strangers that's heading out.

The party's over. Adam's living room, his apartment, is no longer crowded with people. The music's faded into a quiet rise and fall of sound. His friends, his family by choice, are the only ones left. 

It's safe. 

He's safe. 

Relief washes over Adam, wrings him out and makes his knees buckle. He half-stumbles, half-leans backwards, and lets the wall hold him up for a few seconds. Then he goes to sit down.

♎

Tommy smiles at Adam, as he walks past where Tommy's sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, talking with Ashley and Brian. The tilt of Tommy's head says he's up for whatever Adam needs.

Adam blows him a kiss, and Tommy makes a show of catching it and pressing it to his lips. Flipping him off, Adam keeps on walking.

Scarlett and Lee make a similar, silent offer from where they're curled up on a couch with Carmit and her partner, and Adam turns them down too. He can't explain why; he just knows they can't help him.

♎

Sutan is sprawled elegantly in Adam's favorite chair, long legs tucked underneath him. They're friends, and occasionally more than friends, and Adam's sinking to his knees and resting his head against Sutan's leg before he realizes that this is where he was going, that this is who and what he needs.

Without pausing his conversation with Markus, Sutan slides his hand into Adam's hair. His long fingernails scratch Adam's scalp and raise goosebumps on Adam's skin. 

Adam closes his eyes and just leans into Sutan's touch. He doesn't have to talk, decide, or think; for now, he can simply be.

♎

They stay like that for a while. Sometimes Adam sips from a bottle of water that Sutan hands him, or eats a canapé he's given, but mostly he sits and listens to his friends talk.

At some point, as if a signal was given, one that Adam missed, everyone else gets up and says goodbye. Sutan squeezes the back of Adam's neck, preventing him from rising and seeing them out. 

No one comments on it though, not even as a joke. They just let themselves out with promises to see each other again at Lee and Scarlett's barbeque next weekend.

♎

After the front door closes, and is locked from outside with a loud click, Sutan lifts his hand from Adam's neck and strokes his hair. Uncurling from the chair, Sutan slides down to the floor and sits next to Adam.

When Adam doesn't move, Sutan places a finger under Adam's chin and looks searchingly into his eyes.

It takes everything Adam has not to look down or away and to let Sutan see inside him.

The kiss Sutan brushes over his forehead is so gentle that it almost breaks him. "Never ever let it get this bad again," Sutan murmurs.

♎

Hope, need, and desperation leave Adam with only one word, "Libra."

It's a sign, one that they agreed upon years before when they played regularly, with and without others. One that Adam hadn't even remembered until it spilled from him.

Sutan's eyes widen. He puts his hand in the center of Adam's chest and pushes him backward until he's lying on the floor. "Are you sure?" 

"Libra," Adam repeats. This time it feels as if the word is being punched out of his chest with all the air in his lungs. He draws in another breath and says, "Please, sir?"

♎

Sutan rests more of his weight on the hand that's splayed on Adam's chest, pressing on Adam's ribcage. Each inhale feels like an effort, each exhale like a relief.

His other hand at the waist of Adam's jeans, Sutan says, "Give me your safeword."

"Varda."

"Use it if you can." Sutan pops the button. "If you can't—"

Hope and need rush, hot and painful, through Adam.

"—squeeze my hand." 

The sound of Adam's zip moving downward is almost obscene. He shifts, lifting his hips to help Sutan push down his jeans and underwear. Then he's bare-assed against the hardwood floor.

♎

Adam hardly has time to mourn the loss of Sutan's weight off his chest, because Sutan is stripping them both, quickly, efficiently, and then moving them. Before Adam's brain has quite taken in what's happening, Sutan is sitting against the couch, and Adam has his back against Sutan's front.

"Stretch out your legs," Sutan says. 

When Adam does, Sutan puts his own legs over Adam's, holding him in place. 

One of Sutan's hands, slick with spit and precome, curls around Adam's dick, the other wraps around his throat. 

Adam holds his breath. 

"If you don't breathe, I'll stop."

Adam exhales.

♎

Sutan tugs on Adam's dick and lightly squeezes his throat, not quite hard enough to cut off his air. "Hold on," Sutan says.

A bolt of arousal flashes through Adam, as hot and heavy as Sutan's dick against his ass, and Adam moans.

He does as he's told though, wrapping a hand around each of Sutan's forearms, feeling the flex of muscle as Sutan tugs and squeezes. 

Again and again.

Harder. Tighter.

Until Adam's panting between squeezes, thrusting up into Sutan's hand.

Then Sutan moves his hand on Adam's throat, presses against his Adam's apple, and takes his breath away.

♎

Sparks are flashing behind Adam's eyes. His lungs burn. His face flushes red. He wants and he needs, and he arches into the circle of Sutan's hand around his dick.

Sutan relaxes his grip, and Adam exhales, inhales. Sharp and shuddering. The air is cool, soothing in his lungs.

For a few seconds, then Sutan's hand tightens again.

It's a pull, tug, twist, squeeze, and release to a beat that matches the pounding of Adam's heart. But even as he wants it, needs it, Adam can't let go. He tries to control it, to hold his breath and anticipate Sutan.

♎

Until Sutan changes the rhythm, drumming his fingers on Adam's dick, dipping his thumbnail in and out of the slit, squeezing and releasing Adam's throat almost too quickly for Adam to do much more than gasp for air in between.

Finally Adam gives in, gives up control, falls into the white-hot, not-quite-pain of breath and no-breath.

Then Sutan presses his nail in a little bit more, tightens his grip on Adam's neck, and holds.

And Adam's lost in the thundering of his pulse, in the rush of his orgasm, in the sound that unwinds from the depths of his soul.

♎

Afterwards, Sutan cleans Adam up and takes him to bed where he curls up in Sutan's arms. An occasional tear trickles down Adam's face, but mostly he just feels happy and free.

Sutan rests his cheek on Adam's hair. Holding Adam close, he strokes a hand up and down Adam's back. He murmurs words like, "darling," and "so good," and "love."

The weight of expectations and responsibility, the constraints of living his life in the public eye are feather-light. Adam is too comfortable to move. 

Not yet anyway. 

He smiles and closes his eyes. The world can wait until tomorrow.


	30. Fire Signs (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam discovers Tommy's secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Playing with Fire
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #094: fire. Many thanks to @MyPrivateAffair and @aislinntlc for the preread. 
> 
> Also counts for the Temperature Play square on my Kink Bingo card.

Fire dances over Tommy's skin, creating shadows in the night. Flames curl up his arms and over his shoulders, meeting at the back of his neck, flaring down his spine, and fading out at the base.

He shifts his stance, digging his toes into the ground beneath his feet. Spreading his arms wide, he arches back and flicks his fingers. 

Two more flames follow the same path. Despite his nakedness, they warm him inside and out in a way that no amount of clothing ever has.

Closing his eyes, groaning with the sheer pleasure of it, he does it again.

♈

"Oh my god."

The words are soft, more breathed than spoken, but they're a splash of frigid reality that extinguishes Tommy's fire and brings him back to the night, to the chilly air. He shivers as he opens his eyes. 

"Fuck," Tommy blurts out, then bites his lip.

Adam's standing a few feet away, by the fence that Tommy had thought would protect him from spying eyes. 

Another shiver wracks Tommy's body, and he wraps his arms around his chest. It's fucking useless at warming him up or protecting him, but his clothes are hanging on a branch near Adam.

♈

A cloud moves over the moon, and the scant light in the tree-covered corner of the backyard vanishes. At this time of night, with no close neighbors and no lights on in the house, it leaves them in almost complete darkness.

Before Tommy can think about it being a bad idea, he snaps his fingers and lights a flame in his right hand. 

Adam moves forward to stand in front of him. He seems mesmerized by the fire, lifting his hand and running his fingers through the tip of the flame.

It feels like he's brushing them over Tommy's skin.

♈

Adam's touch is too gentle, tickling Tommy's palm in a way that's almost painfully arousing. Unable to handle it for long, needing to hide his reaction, he snaps his hand closed, shutting off the flame and trapping Adam's fingertips.

The breeze sends goosebumps prickling across Tommy's skin as he's caught by Adam's eyes.

This shouldn't have fucking happened. Nobody's ever supposed to know about his fire. He's so damn careful, keeping it doused in public, only letting it out in the dark of night, behind locked doors, when nobody else is around. 

He can't believe he's blown it this badly.

♈

He's never shared it with a boyfriend or a girlfriend. If they get too close, he backs away, breaks things off, or fucks around until they tell him to fuck off. That way nobody gets burned again.

But Adam doesn't seem to understand. He moves closer, until he's bare inches away, and whispers, "So fucking hot, Tommy. Like I was touching you."

Releasing Adam's fingers, Tommy doesn't say _you were_ , because that's not safe. Instead, he ducks around Adam and heads for his clothes.

Or, at least, he tries to. 

Adam catches him around the waist and pulls him back.

♈

The sensation of Adam's lightly furred chest and stomach are almost more than Tommy can bear against the fire-sensitized skin of his back. He wants to run away and to curl in tighter; he settles for straightening up and trying to keep his skin away from Adam's.

"Is this why you turned me down?" Adam asks, and then he pulls Tommy close again. 

Arousal and need wash through Tommy and start the fire dancing under his skin. "Don't," he grits out. "Please just fucking don't."

But Adam just slides his arms around Tommy's waist and holds him tighter. "Why not?"

♈

Fear drags the truth out of Tommy. "Because I'll burn you."

He releases his fire, making it just hot enough to shock Adam into letting him go. He moves quickly, getting himself out of reach, and grabs for his clothes.

"You wouldn't."

"I totally fucking would," Tommy says, before Adam can continue.

Adam licks his lips, wetting them. They shine in the scant light from Tommy's flames, as brightly as the hunger in Adam's eyes.

"What if I don't mind?"

An image of flames washing over Adam's skin almost blinds Tommy, makes him hesitate long enough that Adam catches him.

♈

At least Adam has the sense to grab Tommy by the wrist, where there's no fire.

After a few seconds that stretch out into eternity, Adam repeats, "What if I don't mind?"

"You should." Tommy's voice is hoarse with a hope that's so fucking painful he can hardly stand it.

"I like fire," Adam murmurs. "It's hot. Beautiful. Mesmerizing."

Before Tommy can respond, Adam releases Tommy's wrist to cup his jaw, and he runs his other hand through Tommy's flame.

Tommy's hard, swamped by a rush of desire he didn't know was possible. He almost comes just from Adam's kiss.


	31. Water Signs (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people love it, some hate it, but Adam doesn't give a shit about their opinions. His face, his beard, his choice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Shaving with a straight razor
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #095: water. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread. For @casey270 and the others who requested Adam being shaved.
> 
> Also counts for the Shaving/Depilation square on my Kink Bingo card.

Adam stands in front of the sink and glares at his reflection in the mirror. He rubs his fingers over the edge of his jaw, feeling the beard that he's carefully tended for months. Even damp, the hair has just the right edge of stiffness to leave the perfect pink of stubble burn.

Some people love it, some hate it, but Adam doesn't give a shit about their opinions. His face, his beard, his choice...

Except when a producer calls and tells him that his character doesn't have facial hair, so get rid of it before showing up on set.

♓

He rests his hands on the counter and stares down at the electric razor. Fuck, but he doesn't want to do this. The skin under his jaw is so damn sensitive. It's been a relief not to shave it for a while.

"Seriously, dude?"

His heart kicking up a notch, Adam startles and turns around. Tommy is leaning against the doorjamb. 

"Trying to give me a heart attack?" Adam aims for casual, but he doesn't have to see the softening around Tommy's eyes to know he's failing. 

"Yeah, because you keeling over's really going to help keep me in tacos."

♓

It's an old joke between them, from back in the early days before Glam Nation, when Adam was newly famous, Tommy was still learning bass, and they were both terrified. Adam finds a smile somewhere, pastes it on his face, even gets his lips to curl up a little.

Tommy, asshole that he is, isn't fooled. He just pushes off and moves into the bathroom. And when Adam turns his back, facing the mirror once again, Tommy comes to stand beside him. 

"Time to own your face," Tommy says, meeting Adam's eyes in the mirror. 

"I don't wanna."

"Tough shit."

♓

Tommy swings a bag that Adam hadn't even noticed off his shoulder and onto the counter. "Sit," Tommy says, and points at the toilet.

Bemused, Adam carefully lowers the toilet seat before perching on the edge. 

"Turn around," Tommy says. "I need your back to me." He smirks at Adam. "And get as comfy as you can on that throne."

Adam shifts around, no longer able to watch Tommy. He can hear the sound of running water though, splashing against glass. A scent is starting to fill the air. A little spicy, a little sharp, and reminding him of childhood.

♓

"You settled?" Tommy asks.

Adam nods and says, "Yeah."

"All right then." The thread of mischief in Tommy's voice is unsettling, and more of a turn-on than Adam would ever admit. "Brace yourself."

Before Adam can do or say anything, a hot, damp towel is wrapped around his lower face and neck. He closes his eyes. Every breath brings more of that elusive scent.

"Don't worry too much," Tommy says. "I've done this before. And not just on myself." 

"Not worried," Adam mumbles, the towel muffling his voice.

Tommy snickers. "Maybe you should be."

"I trust you," Adam says. "Completely."

♓

Tommy doesn't respond to that. Instead, after a moment of silence, the bathroom is filled with the sound of metal scraping over leather and Tommy's off-key humming.

The towel is pulled away from Adam's face, and he opens his eyes to see it fly toward the laundry basket. Adam shivers as the chill from the air conditioning glides over his heated skin, and shivers again as Tommy kneels in front of him. 

"You've gotta stay still while I do this. I don't wanna cut you. That would fucking..." 

Tommy bites his lip, sealing in whatever he was going to say.

♓

"Don't move," Tommy finally says, his voice low. He pushes himself to his feet and walks around Adam.

A bowl clunks onto the ceramic of the toilet tank. A folded towel is draped over Adam's shoulder. Then Tommy's fingers are on Adam's jaw, angling his head. The position's a bit awkward. Adam's neck would probably ache if Tommy hadn't rested Adam's head against his chest. 

The shaving cream is warm against Adam's skin. The swirl of the soft brush is soothing. He breathes in heat and comfort and releases a sigh. He hadn't known that he needed this until now.

♓

The handle of the straight razor looks to be made for Tommy's hand. The blade flashes in the light as Tommy places the edge against Adam's throat and pulls Adam's skin tight.

"Don't so much as fucking twitch." 

The way Tommy growls the words brings something shuddering to life in the darkest depths of Adam's mind. Fear and arousal twine so tightly around each other that he can't tell where one starts and the other ends. 

And then the razor moves.

Tommy draws the blade up Adam's throat, slowly, carefully, in a single long stroke that ends at Adam's chin.

♓

Adam breathes out.

Tommy wipes both sides of the razor on the folded towel, dips the blade in the water. His body shifts behind Adam as he swirls the razor through the water and shakes it off. 

When the edge is once again held against his throat, Adam inhales. The metal is blood warm, and Tommy's hand is steady.

Before Tommy begins the next stroke, Adam closes his eyes. He wants to sink into this, into having someone care for him so intensely, get more than a glimpse of Tommy biting his lip or the muscles in Tommy's arm flexing.

♓

Adam can feel everything, hear everything.

Tommy's heartbeat is a bass note against Adam's head. Tommy's fingers are firm on the underside of Adam's jaw, keeping his skin taut as a drum. The razor glides up in a single note, slicing through whiskers with the slight hiss of a minor chord.

The music rests as Adam breathes, as Tommy wipes and rinses the blade. And then it starts again.

Each stroke is a beat, a hiss, a minor chord. A potentially lethal tickle over Adam's skin that builds up to a near-orgasmic release when the razor pulls off his jaw.

♓

Heat rises and falls with each breath in, each sigh out. Music builds between them, in steady beats and extended chords. Longer and shorter strokes, more careful ones as Tommy navigates the tricky curves of Adam's chin, the indent of his upper lip.

Then, with a click of metal against marble, the music falls silent. 

Once again kneeling before Adam, Tommy cleans Adam's face with a warm, damp cloth and anxiously checks for nonexistent cuts.

Adam looks down at him, fits his fingers to the line of Tommy's jaw. All he can do is feel him, want him, kiss him.


	32. Earth Signs (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam needs to take care of Tommy, to thank him for just being there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** D/s
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #096: earth. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread. 
> 
> Also counts for the Food square on my Kink Bingo card.

Adam's sitting cross-legged on the lawn when Tommy shuffles out the back door. 

Tommy's clearly just woken up. His hair is sticking out in all directions like a cross between baby bird fluff and mad punk rocker. He's wearing an old t-shirt that's so faded and torn Adam wouldn't know which band's logo was on the front if Tommy hadn't told him.

"Outside?" Tommy yawns widely. "It's fucking," he squints at the sky and scratches his belly, "not-morning?"

For a brief moment, Adam hates himself for thinking that's cute. He's sure he used to have more upscale taste in guys.

♑

The bitch of it is that Adam doesn't care. He's been told that Tommy's weird and often difficult, but all Adam can see is his gorgeous boy who drops to his knees without grace or style and submits as if he was born to it. What can possibly be wrong with that?

"Adam?"

Patting the grass next to him, Adam says, "Come here."

It's not really an order, but Tommy reacts as if it were. He inhales sharply, blinking himself awake, and heads for the spot Adam indicated. Falling down in a mostly uncoordinated sprawl, Tommy rolls to his knees.

♑

Head down, hands flat on his thighs, back straight, Tommy takes Adam's breath away.

Adam curls his hand around the back of Tommy's neck and squeezes lightly. 

"Coffee?" Adam asks.

Tommy's response is somewhere between a sigh and a moan that turns into a yawned, "Fuck yes," with a belated, "please," tacked on a half-second too late.

Adam lets it go. This is about his need to take care of Tommy, thanking him for just being there, and not getting all fucked off when Adam takes off to do his thing with other musicians. Adam will never underestimate that again.

♑

Leaving his hand on the back of Tommy's neck, Adam picks up one of the travel mugs at his side. Pressing on the button, he raises it to Tommy's mouth.

Tommy looks up at him and raises his head. At the first mouthful, his expression turns ecstatic and greedy. After the third mouthful, when Adam pulls the mug away, Tommy licks his lips, making them damp and shiny, and his muscles tense with the effort not to chase after more coffee.

It makes Adam smile and want to press Tommy down to the ground and reward him for the effort.

♑

Instead Adam puts down the mug and offers Tommy a bite-size square of pumpernickel with cream cheese and lox. "All the way from New York," he says.

This time Tommy's moan is wicked, and his murmured, "Thank you," is clearly designed to wrap itself around Adam's dick. 

Adam rewards him with cantaloupe that's so ripe that juice drips down Tommy's chin. He rewards himself with permission to lick the trail clean. 

There's sweetness and the rough tickle of stubble against Adam's tongue. So good that he licks again and again, chasing the sensations all the way up to Tommy's lips.

♑

When Adam pulls away, Tommy leans a fraction of an inch closer before straightening up again.

"Bad boy," Adam says, his lips twitching with the urge to smile. 

Tommy gives him a look filled with mischief and says, "Haven't had enough coffee to even think about being good."

"What if I don't want you to be good?"

"Then you get what you deserve."

"Mouthy sub," Adam mutters. "One of these days..."

"Promises, promises." 

Before Adam can respond, Tommy's muscles go lax under Adam's hand and he falls into position. Perfectly submissive, imperfectly gorgeous, and so much of what Adam wants.

♑

"Cock tease," Adam says, and then he picks up the mug because he really does love that about Tommy, god help him.

As Tommy swallows, his throat works in exactly the same way it did last night when he took Adam's dick in deep. It's all Adam can do to put the coffee down carefully, instead of throwing the mug to one side, before he licks into Tommy's mouth.

He drags Tommy closer, pulling him up with the hand on the back of his neck, and claims him with sucking kisses, strokes of his tongue, and nips of his teeth.

♑

Abandoning the food he'd so carefully prepared to the ants that are bound to make their way to the little table despite the bowls of water under each leg, Adam pushes Tommy backwards.

He lays Tommy on the soft, springy grass, and Tommy spreads his legs. Adam settles between them and grabs Tommy's wrists in one of his hands and presses them to the ground over Tommy's head.

"I was going to feed you," Adam says, with a thrust of his hips that drags his dick over Tommy's.

"I want you to." 

"And why should I do what you want?"

♑

"No fucking clue, dude." Tommy sweeps his tongue over his lips, wetting them so they shine in the sunlight.

Adam places a finger on Tommy's mouth. When he lifts his hand away, Tommy bites his lip to let Adam know he'll do as he's told.

"Do you want to touch me?" Adam asks. "Kneel before me, run your hands up my thighs, take hold of my dick, and touch me?"

Tommy digs his teeth deeper into his lip.

"Or do you want to taste me?" He rocks his hips against Tommy.

Without releasing his lip, Tommy gurgles an incoherent response.

♑

"Is that what you want?"

A roll of Adam's hips causes Tommy's eyes to widen. A thrust has the muscles in Tommy's neck tensing. And when Adam slowly slides his hand between them, he can feel the dampness at the head of Tommy's dick.

But Adam's caught by the redness of Tommy's bottom lip, the way it seems to puff out around his teeth. He wants to feel that on his skin, wants to make Tommy feel him.

"Keep your hands there," Adam says, his voice rough enough to be nearly a growl. "Don't move unless I tell you to."

♑

Without waiting for Tommy to respond, Adam releases his wrists and crawls up Tommy's body. He rises to his knees and shoves his pants down to free his dick, thankful that he'd worn the too big, totally comfortable yoga pants.

He cups his balls with one hand and lightly jacks himself with the other. Rubbing his thumb over the head, he coats it in precome.

A moan escapes from Tommy, and his lip springs free of his teeth. 

Hooking his thumb into Tommy's mouth, Adam pushes it inside.

Tommy swirls his tongue over Adam's thumb and sucks, his cheeks hollowing.

♑

The sensation goes straight to Adam's dick. His hips move. He squeezes his balls.

He can't take his eyes off Tommy's mouth, the redness, the way his lips pout around Adam's thumb. He can't... he needs... 

"Oh my god, Tommy," Adam murmurs. "Just look at you."

He curls over Tommy and braces himself with one hand on the ground, fingers digging into the earth. Pulling Tommy's mouth open with his thumb, he uses his other hand to rub his dick over Tommy's lips.

Tommy's tongue touches the slit with every pass, and Adam's legs are trembling when he thrusts inside.

♑

Tommy's mouth is hot, wet, and fucking perfect. His tongue flattens against the underside of Adam's dick, and he takes it all the way in until the head hits the back of his throat.

That bump, the way it presses against the head, the tightness of Tommy's lips around the shaft send shivers of need through Adam. He pulls out and pushes back in, and Tommy just fucking takes it. 

As his dick slips between Tommy's lips, Adam watches, needing to see what it does to Tommy's mouth, how it makes his throat work.

"God, baby, you should see yourself."

♑

In response, Tommy presses his tongue against the vein under the head of Adam's dick.

"Yes." The word comes out as a hiss because Adam is lost in the wet slide into Tommy's mouth, the bump against Tommy's throat. Even once, when Adam gets it wrong, the shudder of Tommy's gag reflex. 

Tommy sucks hard. He flutters his tongue against Adam's dick. He hums and swallows. He's perfect. 

Adam pushes deeper, and Tommy does it again. Over and over, until Tommy makes a desperate, broken sound, and Adam can't hold on any longer. 

He sings Tommy's name as he comes.

♑

Adam's still shaking when his dick slips out of Tommy's mouth. He moves onto his back and pulls Tommy on top of him. Reaching for Tommy's dick, he finds that Tommy's pants are damp and his dick softening.

He came untouched, from giving Adam a blowjob. An aftershock rolls through Adam, making him feel like he's coming all over again.

Tommy grins, lazy and self-satisfied, and Adam hugs him tighter, kissing him, tasting himself, tasting Tommy.

He should get them up off the ground, clean Tommy up, take care of him, but right now, Adam can't imagine letting him go.


	33. Peep Show (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ever feel like you're being watched?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #097: spirit. Many thanks to @eeyore9990 for the preread.

"You ever feel like you're being watched?"

"No." Adam frowned at Tommy. "Not here anyway."

Tommy shivered, pressing tighter against Adam's warmth. "Seriously. You don't feel like there's some peeper hovering just out of your peripheral vision?"

"No, fuck." Adam pulled the duvet up and hugged Tommy tight. "Not in our bedroom, at least."

"It's like I catch a flash of them in the corner of my eye sometimes." 

"Too many horror movies," Adam said, kissing Tommy, rolling on top of him. 

Hovering up near the corner of the ceiling, Freddie smiled and settled in to watch his favorite show.


	34. Forever (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bite is not what he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Vampires
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #098: Lay Me Down. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Teeth tear into Tommy's neck, slicing through skin and tendon, slashing at his jugular vein. He wants to scream, but the hand holding his head in place prevents him. 

The sucking noise, so close to his ear, is too loud. He trembles with fear, with a growing weakness that makes his knees buckle. Black spots start to appear before his eyes, blurring the room.

He doesn't even realize he's falling until he's swooped up and laid down on something soft. 

The teeth dig in harder. Blood leaves his body mouthful after agonizing mouthful.

A thick viscous darkness pulls him under.

^V^

Tommy wakes to the drip, drip, drip of blood, coppery and warm on his lips.

"Please, baby. You have to drink. Just a little bit."

His neck is nothing but pain. His head is throbbing in time to the spinning of whatever he's lying on.

"Just one single drop."

The slight movement required to open his mouth brings the darkness rushing back. Tommy's eyes flutter as he fights to stay awake, stay conscious. 

"Fuck, Tommy. Come on. You promised me. Forever, remember?"

He fights the agony, catches a single drop on his tongue.

Fire rises up; he swallows it down.


	35. Double Trouble (Adam/Tommy ~ PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twice the Adam, twice the stupidly ridiculous attractiveness to guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #099: Double Trouble. Many thanks to @moodwriter for the preread and reassurance.

"So," Ashley said, sliding onto the stool next to Tommy and resting her back against the bar. "How're double trouble doing?"

Keeping his eyes on the dance floor, Tommy sipped his whiskey. "Twice the Adam, twice the stupidly ridiculous attractiveness to guys."

She gave him a sharp look, which he totally ignored, and said, "Even with that ugly sweater on, which is..." 

"Utterly irrelevant when you're playing twinky in the middle, getting rubbed on by two Adams. That kid is fucked."

"Looks like the sweater wins tonight."

Tommy made a face because, well, Light Adam. Not that he'd bitch but...

∞

"Then again, Dark Adam is looking fine tonight."

Tommy's mouth dried when he saw Adam walking towards them. Fitted leather boots merged into tight leather pants. Silver chains curled around his forearms. And his shirt was so opaque it needed warnings.

Tommy was so totally fucked for this guy.

Ashley murmured something, but Tommy ignored her. Every word, everything in him had been stolen by the man who was stopping in front of him. 

"Dance," Adam said, taking Tommy's hand and twining their fingers. 

He smelled like smoke and pomegranates, and Tommy couldn't help hoping that dance was a euphemism.


	36. Broken Open (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lay here, it's safe here, I'll let you be broken open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #100: Pick Your Own Adam Song Lyric. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for help figuring out a song and for the preread and reassurance.
> 
> This drabble-set, of course, uses [Broken Open](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/adamlambert/brokenopen.html)

Tommy's phone is heavy in his pocket. He could use it, could text or DM, send a facebook message or an email, or even call, but he doesn't.

Instead, with a weird ache in his chest, he forces himself to unlock the door and twist the handle. 

The thud of it closing behind him makes him flinch.

He's doing the right fucking thing. It doesn't matter that it takes him four tries to get the key in the lock, or that he has to blink blurriness out of his vision as he resettles his guitar and backpack on his shoulders.

\\*/

Swiping his hair out of his eyes, absolutely not swiping his eyes, Tommy straightens his shoulders and heads down the hallway. He's almost all the way there when an elevator dings and the doors open.

Adam steps off, of fucking course, because that's the way Tommy's shit-tastic luck runs these days.

"Oh," is all Adam says. His mouth rounds, and his shoulders slump. His expression slides briefly into the one he uses to hide from fans, the media, and anyone he doesn't trust before he lets the pain show again.

Tommy chews on a fingernail and waits for the explosion.

\\*/

It doesn't happen.

Adam just says, "I'm sorry," in a way that slams into Tommy like a knife in the gut.

"Don't be," Tommy says, going to walk around Adam. "You didn't do shit. I just... I need to go back to my place, okay? I gotta be alone for a bit."

The elevator's already gone back downstairs. Tommy pushes the button and waits. Not wanting to fidget, not able to stay still, he starts chewing on a thumbnail. 

A few feet away, Adam's still standing there, watching. Tommy can feel Adam's gaze, the almost unbearable weight of his understanding.

\\*/

The elevators move up, stuttering and stopping at a floor here and there. Adam moves, there's the sound of his key in the lock. Tommy doesn't take his eyes off the floor indicator.

When the elevator's one floor away and Adam's door is open, Adam says, "They don't own us."

Tommy bites through nail and skin, tasting blood.

"Everybody owns us," Tommy says. "So many fucking people have little bits and pieces that there's fuck-all left for us. It's worse than fucking high school sometimes, and that's where I...." 

Pressing his lips together, Tommy feels something break open inside him.

\\*/

Adam's not gentle, and Tommy's grateful for that. He lets Adam manhandle him away from the elevator, even as it's arriving on the floor, and back into the apartment. Somehow he ends up lying on Adam's bed with Adam curled around him.

He can remember how Adam's hands felt on his body as he took away Tommy's guitar, backpack, and shoes, but not those things actually happening. His mind was, and is, lost in events that happened so many years ago that he'd convinced himself he'd forgotten them.

Of course, he failed at that, just like a thousand other things.

\\*/

They don't talk about it. Adam doesn't even attempt to ask, and Tommy's grateful for that too. He's so damn grateful that he slides a hand into Adam's, linking their fingers, and holds it tight to his chest.

It's fucking weird, this feeling of being protected. He hasn't a clue what to do with it. 

"Stay," Adam says. "You're safe here."

I'm broken, Tommy wants to tell him, but instead he brings Adam's hand up to his lips, kisses it.

"Whenever you're ready," Adam whispers. "You can tell me anything, and I'll still love you."

Tommy just holds on.


	37. Goal in Sight (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His ammunition was low and he'd been grazed by one bullet, but his goal was in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #101: Strange Battles . Many thanks to @eeyore9990 for the beta.

"Choke on this, motherfuckers!" 

Tommy's hands vibrated as his semi-automatic sprayed bullets in a deadly arc. "One, two, five... fuck yeah! Got every damn one of you!"

Weapon at the ready, he jumped over one of the bodies and raced down the hallway. He glimpsed blue out of the corner of his eye and swung around. A quick burst from his gun sent two more bodies dropping to the floor.

He ran on, firing as needed and almost never missing. His ammunition was low and he'd been grazed by one bullet, but his goal was in sight.

He could save...

^V^

"Damn it, Tommy. I'm trying to sleep. If you have to play that fucking game, at least turn the fucking volume down!"

Tommy flinched, spun around, took aim at Adam. "Fuck, don't sneak up on me like that."

"Or what?" Adam flopped onto the couch next to him. "You'll kill me with that controller?"

Before Tommy could reply, a familiar tune chimed and his avatar died.

"Shit. I almost had it, too."

"That's what you said last time."

"Fuck you."

"Any time."

Tommy laughed. "Gonna wear me out so I can sleep?"

Adam's kiss made Tommy think he just might.


	38. Quiet Weekend (Gen ~ Adam, Tommy, Sutan, and friends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam, his family, and friends are having a quiet weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** G
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #102: Family and Friends. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

_u and Adam ARENT FRIENDS_

Adam scowled at his phone. Stupid trolls and their even stupider ideas. As if they had a clue about his personal life.

After a quick check of the oven timer, he looked over to the living room. It was quiet this weekend, with so many out of town. 

Sutan was curled up on the couch with his love, talking with his whole body, not just words, to Scarlett, Neil, and Elisse. Adam's mom was chatting more quietly with Lee and Tommy. Riff was sleeping in Tommy's lap.

A half-smile on his face, Adam clicked _Block_.


	39. Writ Upon His Skin (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's first touch is almost too gentle for Tommy to feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** BDSM, bondage, blindfold, sensation play
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #103: Feathers and Fur. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

The blindfold is velvet smooth over Tommy's eyes. The hemp ropes press into his wrists and ankles. 

"Tell me," Adam says. 

"Depeche Mode," Tommy responds. He's beyond ready for Adam to get started.

The bed dips under Adam's weight, wobbling for a moment before Adam gets off again. The fucking tease.

Tommy's skin twitches with the buzz of anticipation. He tries to focus on his breathing, in and out, but that doesn't help for shit. He's too driven by need. 

Wrapping his hands around the ropes, he tugs on them and tests their strength, abrades his skin just a little.

*

Adam's first touch is almost too gentle for Tommy to feel it. His palms skim over Tommy's stomach, almost soft enough to be ticklish. A puff of air brushes over Tommy's nipples, and he jumps.

"Hush," Adam says. 

Tommy tries, but his brain is skittering all over the place from the music he's been writing to the last episode of Breaking Bad to the...

**_SNAP_ **

A small but intense red pain flashes out from Tommy's hip, distracting him. The silk flogger connects again and again. On his thigh, his side, and back down to the sharp edge of his hipbone.

*

The soft taps and hard snaps rain down on Tommy's skin in an unpredictable beat that sends heat flaring out in a cobweb of arousal. Again and again, until his thoughts start to disintegrate.

He bites his lip to hold in a moan, and everything stops.

After a few seconds, Tommy asks, "What?"

"Your words and your sounds," Adam says. "I want them all or this is over. Don't hold anything back."

The threat of ending this before it's really begun goes right to Tommy's dick. He licks his lips and rasps out, "Okay. Damn it. I promise."

"Good boy."

*

The silken ends of the flogger trail over Tommy's chest in a never-ending infinity symbol, teasing his nipples. He moans and arches his back, trying to encourage Adam, only to have the flogger swirl down to his belly button.

Adam dangles the flogger there, barely moving it, and Tommy's stomach muscles twitch. It's so soft, so close to a nothing touch, that he can barely stand it. 

Then Adam flicks the flogger sideways. The ends catch on the edge of Tommy's hip. A flash of fire goes through him and settles hot and heavy at the base of his dick.

*

The brush of fur against Tommy's inner thigh sends shivers curling up his spine and brings him the gift of Adam's words.

"You look so beautiful like this. Stretched out, decorated with my marks, open and wanting."

Tommy moans as the fur caresses his other thigh. It feels decadent, as if he's precious and loved. 

The gentle touch moves up over his balls, and Adam cups them and rolls them. He shakes with need as the soft fur glides over his dick and down to his ass.

"Just like that, baby. Spread your legs. Show me how gorgeous you are."

*

Adam adds a claw-like scratching to the feathery brush of fur. Soft circles on Tommy's belly, sharp patterns around his nipples, legs and arms, balls and hips, chest and dick, until all Tommy's doing is feeling.

"Please, fuck, please," he begs, when Adam pauses.

"Please what?" Adam's voice is low, rough with need. "Do you want me to stroke you?" 

A fur-clad hand curls around Tommy's throat, gives it a gentle squeeze that catches in Tommy's chest and leaves him wanting it tighter, harder, more.

He bares his neck, pressing up into the fur, almost whining when Adam's hand vanishes.

*

Like a shock of electricity jolting through him, Adam's lips are touching Tommy's ear and he's breathing, "Or should I write a song upon your body?"

A looping scratch, then another, and another. Tommy feels the words, hears the song. It's heat and joy, all of the love that Tommy's ever known, written on his body, hummed against his skin.

Each letter adds another point of heat. Each pause tethers him to Adam. He's lost in the feeling, in the flames that lick at the darkness surrounding him. Until Adam hums one last note against Tommy's dick, and he comes.


	40. The Promise (Adam, Tommy, Danielle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A laugh, an Ouija board, and a promise, Adam holds on to all of them.

A familiar, odd laugh echoes as Danielle moves the pointer across the Ouija board. It sounds so much like hope that Adam curls his hands until his nails dig into his palms. The small pains don't help, but at least he doesn't press his hands over his ears.

"Talk to us," Danielle says. "We've missed you."

 _2 soon_ is spelled out on the board.

"You said I'd find you when I was older." It sounds like an accusation although Adam doesn't mean it that way, but it's been years and he feels more alone than he likes.

_You will. Promise._

^V^

Adam's long past the point where he remembers the musician's names. This one stands out though. He's short and almost too thin. He's got chipped nail polish, his eyeliner is a bit smeared, and his hair looks like he just got up out of bed.

But Adam doesn't see any of that. He barely even registers that the guy can play guitar, would be good enough for the band if Adam hadn't been able to talk Monte into the job last night after one too many drinks.

None of that matters after the guy's odd laugh echoes through the room.


	41. Riding Lessons (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leather reins are wrapped loosely around large, strong hands. Leg and ass muscles bunch and flex in time to the thud, thud, _thud_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** NC-17
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #105: Riding. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Leather reins are wrapped loosely around large, strong hands. Leg and ass muscles bunch and flex in time to the thud, thud, _thud_. 

Tommy can't look away, can't stop tapping out the rhythm against the rail. This show of grace and power is more of a turn-on than he thought it would be. He's not sure how he feels about that.

A hand touches the rail next to his, and Tommy turns just in time to have a folded note thrust at him. He takes it, and the hand disappears in a cloud of cologne and a rustle of silk.

\\*/

There's only one word scrawled on the paper, but it makes Tommy smile.

He pushes away from the rail, waving off his friends' nosy questions, and follows the scented trail to a velvet curtain. The flick of a crop against leather boots draws his attention to the other side of the rail briefly before he pushes through. 

An arm stretches out, barring his way. "No," grunts a dude with more muscles in his pinky finger than Tommy has in his whole body.

Tommy shows the note to him. "This says 'yes'."

The guy drops his arm with visible reluctance. "Behave."

\\*/

Tommy can't help wondering what counts as behaving when you're backstage at a strip joint, especially given what happens on and in front of the stage.

The thud, thump, thud is louder back here. The smack of leather against flesh echoes around the hallway. 

Each of the closed doors has a holder with a piece of paper stuck in it. Some have several lines of names, others only one. The printing is light, fading into unreadable in places, but Tommy carefully deciphers them and compares them to the word on his note.

The door he wants has only one name.

\\*/

The room behind the door is tiny. There's a counter covered in more makeup, brushes, and other paraphernalia than Tommy has seen in his life, a mirror with a couple of lights out, an armless chair, and a fabric and wood screen with clothes hanging off it.

"Sutan?" A guy asks from behind the screen. "Is that you?"

"Nope," Tommy says. 

The screen wobbles dangerously, sending a jacket heading for the floor, and a head pops around it. 

All Tommy sees is dark hair, eyeliner, and lips that make him want to fall to his knees.

Then the guy smiles.

\\*/

"Hi," Tommy chokes out and then adds, "Note." He waves it around.

"Sutan found you." The smile broadens into a predatory grin, and the guy comes out from behind the screen. 

He's mostly naked, wearing nothing but a pair of teeny tiny gold underpants. Barefoot, walking toward Tommy, he seems taller and hotter than he did on stage in 4-inch heels.

Tommy's dick perks the fuck up, pressing against his jeans, and he licks his suddenly too dry lips. "I can't afford..."

"No, you can't." His voice is low, almost a purr, as he slots a hand against Tommy's throat.

\\*/

Tommy swallows, and it feels as if the hand is right up against his junk too.

"I'm Adam," the guy murmurs, "and you're?"

"Tommy." 

"I saw you, Tommy. You looked like you wanted to crawl onto the stage and take Terrance's place."

The image flashing through him like a bolt of lightning, Tommy tries to save his dignity with a, "Maybe."

"What if I wanted you to?" 

Adam bends down and uses his hand to tug Tommy's face up toward his. With one lick into Tommy's mouth, with a filthy kiss that all but curls Tommy's toes, Adam owns him.

\\*/

Without stopping the kiss or removing his hand from Tommy's throat, Adam backs them up. There's a pause, long enough for Tommy to draw in a deep breath, try to come up with something to say.

Adam sits down in the chair and pulls Tommy into his lap. 

"Yes or no?" Adam asks. "Because I need to know now if it's no."

Tommy rolls his hips, more awkwardly than gracefully, and slides a hand on either side of Adam's jaw. "Yes," he says against Adam's mouth. Then sucks Adam's lower lip into his mouth and drags his teeth over it.

\\*/

There's nothing erotic about getting Tommy's clothes off. He fumbles his belt, and shuffles from side to side as he tries to shove his jeans down. His dick, though, doesn't know any better.

It's too busy responding to the jagged shards of _want_ caused by the heat of Adam's hands against his skin and the possessive grip of Adam's fingers on his hips.

When they're finally off and he settles back down, it's naked ass against naked dick, Adam's slick finger sliding down into Tommy's cleft, and a lightning bolt of need that punches a groan out of Tommy.

"Fuck!"

\\*/

Adam chuckles, dark, low and filthy. "That's the plan, baby."

His finger slides in and Tommy rocks back, taking it deeper. Adam pulls out, pushes it just inside, and when Tommy's about ready to give him shit for being such a tease, he adds another lube-slickened finger. 

It stretches and burns, and it's fucking perfect, because Tommy's getting lost in the _feeling_ of it. He loops his arms around Adam's shoulders and bites at Adam's lips. 

A third finger presses into him, opens him wider.

It's not nearly enough. It just leaves Tommy feeling empty, needy, wanting so much more.

\\*/

"Fuck me," Tommy says into Adam's mouth, grinding his hips down onto Adam's hand. "Fuck me, goddamn you."

"God, you're so fucking perfect. Ordering me around like that."

Tommy would have bitched him out, but Adam silences him with a kiss. He pushes Tommy's ass up and pulls his hand out.

A few empty, needy seconds later, Adam's dick is pressing against the rim of Tommy's hole. It's another fucking tease, and Tommy more than done with Adam's fooling around. He sits down, Adam's dick sliding into him, hot and big, filling him up, stretching him wider.

And Adam moans.

\\*/

Tommy eats the sound, swallows it down, as he rolls his hips.

"Please," Adam whispers against Tommy's mouth. "Baby, please."

Rising up until only the head of Adam's dick is inside him, Tommy licks Adam's lips. Then he drops back down again, bottoms out, feels Adam's dick rub over his prostate. 

Again and again, up and down, until Tommy's leg muscles are complaining, and he's shaking with the need to have Adam touch his dick. 

"No," Adam says. "You're going to come like this."

Adam puts his hands on Tommy's hips, fingers digging in, holding him down, and thrusts up.

\\*/

The tiny movements, grinding, rubbing, drive Tommy crazy. The heavy weight of Adam's dick inside of him, the drag of the head against Tommy's prostate, force words out of him like "fuck" and "goddamn" and "shit" and even, when he's almost sobbing with the need to come, "love".

"Oh my god," Adam says, each word a panting heave of air, "yes. Love, so much."

"You," Tommy manages.

Adam's fingers tighten on Tommy's hips. He pushes up into Tommy, holds them together, growls his name.

It's so fucking hot. Tommy's head falls back, his body arches and clenches, and he comes.

\\*/

Afterwards, Tommy curls into Adam, even though the chair is hell on his knees.

Adam's hand is comforting on Tommy's back. The fingers of Adam's other hand trace the stretched rim of Tommy's hole, touching the slick-wet place where they're joined.

"Jesus," Tommy mutters. "You weren't fucking kidding when you said this would be hot as Hades."

One of Adam's fingers pushes into him, next to Adam's soft dick. The squelching sound makes Tommy shiver and move to give Adam access. 

_Later_ , Tommy thinks. Later they can clean up, get dressed, and head home. But now, this is fucking awesome.


	42. Dear Mr. Fantasy (Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert/Kurt Hummel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's cute and small and he has a butt that..." Elliott shapes a curve in the air. "He's my Mr. Fantasy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** Preslash
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for , prompt #107: Traffic. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.
> 
> The song that Elliott and Kit sing is [Dear Mr. Fantasy](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSQ1akE2CcM) by Traffic.

Elliott slams through the apartment door, tosses his top hat at the coatrack, and with a moan of despair, flings himself onto the couch next to one of his roommates. 

When Kit continues to play his guitar without looking up, Elliot sighs dramatically. 

Pushing his bangs out of his face, Kit leans forward to write in his music notebook. 

"Uncaring bastard," Elliott hisses and places his foot, still in his highest platforms, on top of the notebook.

"Yup, that's me."

"He hated me. Actually hated _me_. My look. My outfit. My everything."

"Asshole," Kit agrees, and returns to his song.

✰ 

"I'm serious, Kitty."

Kit sticks out his tongue. "Don't call me that, not unless I'm dressed for it."

"He thinks I'm over the top. He wants mainstream."

"He thinks Starchild is over the top. He wants Elliott."

"Elliott is boring."

Kit stares at Elliott so intently that Elliott wants to put on the steampunk goggles and hide from him.

"How can you like someone who doesn't get Starchild?"

Elliott sits up, blinks at him. "Because it's Kurt."

"Uh huh."

"He's cute and small and he has a butt that..." Elliott shapes a curve in the air. "He's my Mr. Fantasy."

✰ 

The guitar isn't tuned properly, but Kit plays a riff anyway and sings, not quite off-key, stretching out the music and twisting it to replace "us" with "Elliott."

"Dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune. Something to make Elliott all happy."

Elliot ignores him in favor of resting a heel on the edge of the couch and unlacing his boots.

"Do anything, take us out of this gloom. Sing a song, play guitar, make it snappy."

By the second chorus, Elliott's feet are bare and he can't help singing along, sending his voice soaring over Kit's, almost feeling like smiling.

✰ 

"Fuck him," Kit says, setting his guitar aside.

"I wish." 

Elliott does. He wishes he'd reached out, pulled Kurt to him when he'd been on that table. That he'd curled his fingers in Kurt's ugly blue shirt, dragged him onto the table, kissed him, pressed him down...

Groaning, Elliott shifted on the couch. Lovely, now he's turned on and depressed. Fuck his life anyway.

"Starchildren don't give up, not that easily," Kit says. "Not if you really want him."

"I don't know how..."

"Figure it out." Kit stands up. "In the meantime, I have to go put my Kitty on."

✰ 

Elliot lets Kitty talk him into going to her show, wearing full Starchild regalia: high heel boots, velvet shirt, leather pants and jacket. It makes him feel a little better, as does the attention he gets from one of the customers.

"I don't think so," Kitty says, inserting herself between Elliott and the guy. Chad or Tad or something like that. Elliott's sure he'd remember once he got the guy's mouth wrapped around his cock.

"Go." Kitty makes a shooing gesture. "Starchild and I are leaving."

The guy shrugs but doesn't argue. 

Clearly he doesn't think Starchild's worth it either.

✰ 

"Oh no, you don't." Kitty hooks her hand into the crook of Elliott's elbow. "You're not making up for being rejected by taking up with that loser."

Elliott figures it's a sign of how depressed he feels that he lets Kitty maneuver him out of the club and onto the street. Apparently he's buying her pie and coffee.

This time, it doesn't make him smile when people want to take pictures with one or both of them. It just makes his heart feel that much heavier and his smile that much more forced.

Then they walk past the Spotlight Diner.

✰ 

"Oh my god," Elliott breathes, crashing to a halt.

They're still open, and have a crowd hanging around outside. But that's not who Elliott's looking at.

"It's him," he says, then clarifies with, "The guy singing to the group in the corner booth."

"That is a cute butt," Kitty says. "You should go for it."

Elliott shakes his head, because... No.

"Oh, and they have lemon meringue pie." Kitty tugs at his arm.

He resists, refusing to move, even though he's bound to have bruises from her grip.

"I can't," he says. "Not like this."

Because Kurt doesn't like Starchild.

✰ 

"Tomorrow, then," Kitty says.

Elliott ducks instinctively when Kurt turns around. It's stupid, because no one can miss someone his height, in that outfit.

Except Kurt just moves to the next table, obviously not seeing Elliott, stabbing another knife into his ego. So he snaps at Kitty, "No."

"Yes," she says, "and you're going to let me pick out your outfit. I'll turn you into that idiot's Mr. Fantasy no matter how much it hurts my soul to even think about it."

Elliott smiles at her, and with one more glance into the diner, follows her over to the cabstand.


	43. And Go Down All Below (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy raised his head, looked directly into Adam's eyes, sending a flush of heat through him, and said, "I'll make it sweet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #108: Make It Sweet. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

"What happened to 'write what you know'?" 

"I've gone down on a girl, and you know it." Adam stuck his tongue out at Danielle. He was being defensive, and he knew it, but damn it. His friends were such asses.

"Once." Lee wrinkled his nose. "And none of us will ever forget your reaction to it."

"He still won't use Listerine," Scarlett said. "Claims it gives him flashbacks."

The look on Tommy's face, the one that was way too much like a dog with an especially tasty bone, was enough for Adam to want to change the subject. Like yesterday.

♥

"So," Adam said. "I thought we were going to figure out something special for Riff's birthday."

"Pfft. That subject's done and dusted. Baby Zodiac this time, remember?" Scarlett's smirk sent a spike of cold fear down Adam's spine. "Now we're moving on to more interesting subjects."

Adam pulled his feet up off the floor and tucked them underneath him. "No, we're not."

"You don't want to talk about music?" 

"I..." Adam trailed off in the face of Tommy's pouting lower lip. He was pretty sure Tommy was kidding. But pretty sure didn't mean shit when faced with that soft, pink...

♥

A poke in the leg made Adam jump. "Huh?"

"I'll make it sweet," Scarlett sang.

Alisan joined in to harmonize with her on, "And go down all below." 

"Down below," Lee repeated, more talking than singing, as he stared into Scarlett's eyes and licked his lips, slowly and deliberately.

"Oh my god," Adam said, giggling. "I think Lee's trying to be sexy."

"And changing the subject," Tommy muttered resentfully.

He didn't push it though, just lay back, drank his whiskey, and watched thoughtfully as the conversation moved on to other subjects. Adam wasn't sure if that was reassuring or disturbing.

♥

Disturbing, he decided as he closed his apartment door behind Scarlett and Lee only to turn around and see Tommy still curled up on the floor with a nearly empty glass of whiskey.

A glance around showed that they were alone in his apartment. Everyone else had left.

When Tommy didn't say anything, just kept looking at him with hooded eyes, Adam said, "It's late."

Tommy's gaze flicked to the clock. "I guess." He shrugged, a liquid rise and fall of his shoulder that drew Adam's attention to the curve of his neck. "If you think two a.m. is late."

♥

"Depends." With a brief stop to refill his glass, Adam headed for his favorite chair and slumped back with a sigh. "On days with a six a.m. call, midnight is seriously fucking late."

"You're the one who wanted to be on TV, dude."

Adam couldn't deny it, but he sometimes wondered if he'd have made the same decision if he'd known what it meant. Musicians weren’t morning people at the best of times.

"Yeah but you're kicking ass and having, like, a butt-load of fun."

A memory of swinging on a rope made Adam smile. "Yeah, I am. It's awesome."

♥

Instead of responding, Tommy stared down into his glass and then tossed what was left in it back. The few seconds that left his neck on display left Adam with a dry mouth and the beginnings of a hard-on. He'd call Tommy out for being a fucking dick-tease, but Adam knew that wasn't it.

The clumsy, goofy grace that marked Tommy's movements, the power in his hands and the lost look when he played, they were total aphrodisiacs for Adam.

And life was just fucked up enough that Tommy didn't have a clue about the effect he had on Adam.

♥

At the soft touch on the inside of Adam's knee, he automatically parted his legs. Then he blinked and found himself looking into Tommy's eyes.

While Adam had been contemplating him, Tommy had crawled over to him and was now kneeling between his legs. There was something in Tommy's expression, an emotion Adam couldn't identify, that sent a throb of arousal through Adam.

"What?" Adam croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. 

Tommy placed a hand on each of Adam's legs. Heat from the firm touch seemed to wind its way through Adam to his dick. 

He couldn't though, not with Tommy.

♥

"Fucking idiot," Tommy said, so fondly that it felt more like a compliment than an insult.

"Takes one to know one," Adam blurted out, unable to keep his mouth closed and trap the words inside. 

Tommy's mouth curved into a bright smile that made the air catch in Adam's chest. Then, his lips twisting with dark amusement, Tommy said, "Maybe it's, like, time to change that, you know?"

"Change what?" The question sounded as breathless as Adam felt.

"Us." Tommy rose up on to his knees. "You and me." His hands skimmed to the top of Adam's thighs. "Being idiots."

♥

Then, before Adam could scrape a response out of his lust-clouded brain, Tommy popped the button on Adam's jeans with his long fingers. The sound of the zip sliding down seemed loud enough to hurt Adam's ears. The brush of Tommy's knuckles against Adam's dick took him from half-hard to painfully hard in an instant.

Sliding down in the chair, even as his mind scolded his body for not objecting, Adam licked his lips. "You shouldn't," he managed to get out.

Then Tommy pushed Adam's underwear down and the tip of his thumb rested against the head of Adam's dick.

♥

Tommy raised his head, looked directly into Adam's eyes, sending a flush of heat through him, and said, "I'll make it sweet."

He curled a hand around the base of Adam's dick, so gently that it was barely a touch. 

Knowing he shouldn't, that he should ask questions, make sure Tommy was sure, that he knew what he was doing, Adam rolled his hips and thrust up into Tommy's hand. 

Because he needed. Because he'd been waiting for so long.

Tommy breathed on the head. Adam made a sound that was all but a whine. 

"And go down all below."

♥

The tip of Tommy's tongue was slightly pointed, and Adam's entire body shivered when Tommy dipped it into Adam's slit.

Adam couldn't think, could only feel. _So good. So good,_ echoed through his brain. 

Then Tommy swirled his tongue around the head, and Adam's hips shuddered upward. 

"Please," he begged.

Tommy's mouth slid over his dick, taking it in. Not deep at first, but... fuck. 

So hot and wet and soft as silk.

Up and down. 

Slow and sweet as trance music.

_So fucking good._

Adam clawed at the arms of the chair and pressed his feet against the floor.

♥

Held the fuck on, as Tommy sucked, licked, took him in. Swallowed him whole.

_Swallowed!_

"Tommy," Adam breathed. "Oh fuck, baby. Please. Be real."

The aching need in his heart, fed by a thousand dreams, spilled over, crashed through him, and he came with a cry that was half-prayer and half-sob. 

And when Tommy tucked him away and crawled up into his lap, Adam kissed him. 

Tasted himself. Tasted Tommy. Tasted _them_.

Tears glistened on Tommy's lashes. His mouth was puffy, more red than pink now.

"I could love you," Adam said.

"Me too," Tommy replied.

Adam kissed him again.


	44. The Way We Were (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy hears Adam singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
>  **Content/Warning(s):** None
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #109: Memories. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

"Mem'ries, Light the corners of my mind..."

The sound of the shower, three closed doors, an entire floor away, Tommy starts rummaging desperately through the shit on the table in the music room. When that doesn't unearth either headphones or earbuds, he scrambles for the stereo.

"Misty watercolor memories..."

His first attempt gives him a whine of feedback before he remembers that Lee had been messing around with hooking it up through the TV the night before. As he paws through the mass of cables and wires, he yells, "Fucking damn it, Adam. Shut up."

"Of the way we were."

~ ♥ ~

"Mem'ries, may be beautiful and yet..."

Tommy flicks on the TV, but gets a fuzzy screen. Wrong fucking channel, he thinks, and goes searching for the remote. "Jesus, fuck, you asshole. Not that song."

"What's too painful to remember..."

Hands over his ears don't work, so he goes racing up the stairs. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."

"We simply choose to forget..."

The bathroom door bangs against the wall as he slams through it. "Shut up, you motherfuck..."

And his brain derails because water's dripping down Adam's naked body and he's grinning.

"Join me in the shower next time?"


	45. Black and Red (Adam/Tommy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each lick of the razor, each growled syllable strips him bare, leaves him wanting, moves him one step nearer to becoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** PG-13
> 
> **Content/Warning(s):** Cross-dressing
> 
> **Author's notes:** Written for glam_100, prompt #110: That Look. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

The beat is slow and filthy, the kind that drives men to grinding and rubbing against each other. Ass to ass, dick to dick, ass to dick. The singer's voice is low, with a raspy edge that sinks to the base of Tommy's spine. 

With each thrum of the bass, the razor slips through foam. The sharp blade glides over the curve of a pec, around the pebbled whorl of a nipple, uncovering smooth pale skin prickled by goosebumps.

Each lick of the razor, each growled syllable strips him bare, leaves him wanting, moves him one step nearer to becoming.

*

One song merges into another, and a woman's voice curls through Tommy as he strokes his hairless legs, from ankle to knee to the crease of his thigh. He arches into his own touch before running his hand back down his leg. 

The silken tights are a whisper of sweet nothings as he rolls them up his legs. Metallic threads glitter in the light as he snaps the clips into his lacy red garter belt.

He stands and waits for a few seconds. Then, as a long guitar chord wails from the speakers, he spins in a slow, clumsy pirouette.

*

The corset is black with red ribbons, and designed so he can fasten it himself. He takes a deep breath and nearly chokes on air when his lungs don't expand far enough. It's all good though, because even without fake tits, the corset shifts things around and makes him look small-busted, like a couple of his ex-girlfriends.

He lifts the dress over his head and wishes that he'd remembered to do his makeup after putting it on. But he didn't, and he's got to live with that.

Bending his head, closing his eyes, he wriggles his ass into the dress.

*

Black silk flows down his torso in a soft, shimmery slide that sends a tingle of need right to his dick. He's turned on and grateful not to be tucking.

The skirt has enough fabric that the hip-to-ankle slits on either side offer nothing more than a peek of his glittery red legs. He swings his hips, and the fabric catches the light.

A twitch of the fabric draws it a touch further down, displaying his cleavage. He picks up a miniature dagger and slips it into the sheath in the corset. The blood-red stone gleams against his pale skin.

*

Tommy peers at his reflection in the mirror to check on his makeup. A touch more eyeliner and mascara fix his eyes. Another coat of lipstick turns his lips as red as the stone.

A pair of four-inch stilettos changes his stance, thrusting his pelvis forward and making his gait more feminine. 

He's a man in a woman's clothing, not even trying to fool anyone, but he feels sexy as he walks out of the dressing room.

And from the way Adam looks at him, the way Adam reaches for him, Tommy's going to feel that way all night long.


End file.
